Bloom
by chayron
Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

**Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character. Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram**

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them?

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: The tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0 and chris'cut

Part 1

Wolfram was sitting on a patch of freshly mown grass along the fence which separated the stables from the training yard. He was watching his soldiers honing their skills. Behind him, on the other side of the fence, men were gentling their horses. Wolfram could hear shod hooves hitting the ground, clinking against occasional stones on their way.

The blond had already done his share of training and now was having a break. He was also waiting for his king to finish his duties and come down into the yard for a ride on his new horse. The tame mare had been chosen by Conrart, who knew that Yuuri was not very skilled in horseback riding. Even so, the horse and the rider had to get used to each other and form a bond of mutual trust.

The prince leaned backwards intending to lie down on the grass. But, then, he frowned and returned into a sitting position. He rolled his left shoulder. Then he massaged it with his fingers. He had sprained it while sparring with one of his bodyguards a few days ago. It was nothing serious and Gisela had prescribed him a jar of ointment that had a tart smell. He had rubbed it into the skin a few times and it seemed to be working, but, occasionally, the dull aches still reoccurred.

Trying to do so without aggravating his shoulder, the prince lay down. Inhaling the pleasant scent of the freshly mown grass, he looked at the sky. There was no sun. Despite this, the heat was sweltering. The sky was dotted with blotches of dark clouds which didn't move in the absence of wind. The swallows, nesting under the roofs of the stables, were also flying low. All signs showed rain; he wished Yuuri would hurry up.

Wolfram was awakened from his doze by someone's excited voice. A little surprised that he had fallen asleep, the prince stood up. Dusting the grass and ants off his trousers, he looked over the fence. The king was on his black mare already. Conrart was following him closely on his own. Gunter was catching up with the two, and Wolfram believed it had been his voice that had woken him up; he was shouting for Yuuri to wait for him.

The blond rolled his eyes. He started walking along the fence towards the gate leading out of the training yard and to the castle. Behind him, he could hear the horses galloping in a circle and the king's voice. He had planned to join Yuuri, but now decided that he was too sleepy for that. Besides, with Gunter present, Yuuri's attention was going to be divided, Gunter's colorful personality capturing most of it.

The prince was halfway up to the yard when he heard a horse galloping in his direction. He turned around to see Yuuri catching up with him. Conrart and Gunter were a few meters behind the king.

"Hi, Wolfram," Yuuri greeted, his right hand letting go of the reins to give him a wave.

Wolfram nodded. "How was your day?"

Yuuri shrugged. "The usual…too much paperwork and not enough time."

"Not enough experience would be closer to the truth," Wolfram muttered.

Yuuri let out an agreeing sigh. Despite the fact that he had gotten much better at reading and writing, there were still a huge number of cases where he lacked even the most basic insights into the Demons' culture, and he always double checked if he was not certain of something. He still required constant help from either Gwendal or Gunter regarding even minor matters.

As the blond continued walking towards the castle, the king urged his horse and sided next to Wolfram. They were passing men who were sparring and most of whom now were trying to show off their skill before their king. Gunter and Conrart fell behind, giving some privacy for the engaged couple to converse.

"What about you? I thought you'd join me for a ride?" Yuuri asked.

"Somehow I don't feel like it," Wolfram said, giving a small yawn. "Feel sleepy. Besides, I went for a ride earlier."

"What? Without waiting for me?"

"Yuuri, it's going to rain – I didn't want to leave Kerda without any exercise today."

The king upturned his head to stare at the sky. "Right." He lowered his head once more. Then he leaned down and patted his horse on the neck. "Conrart picked a good horse. We seem to understand each other perfectly."

Wolfram turned his head to look at the black mare. "What is her name?"

"Ernesta."

"I see," Wolfram said. The name sounded weird to his ears, as did all the foreign words Yuuri used. "Yuuri, you should turn around. I don't think the soldiers will be very happy about your horse fertilizing their training yard."

Instinctively, Yuuri looked behind him, expecting to find a steaming pile but there was none. "Ah. Right," he said, turning his horse around. "See you at dinner, then."

Wolfram nodded. He reached the door and headed for his room to get spare clothes, after which he went to the royal baths. He had already washed his hair and the sweat off his body and was resting in the pool when he heard someone enter the baths. From where he was leaning against the edge, he raised his head to see the king walking towards him. Yuuri gave him a short smile then started undressing. Wolfram averted his eyes when Yuuri gave him an awkward look.

Wolfram reclined his head to stare at the dome above. There wasn't much to look at: there were no frescos as it was always damp and warm in the baths and the paint wouldn't hold. As it was now, all he could look at was scaled scrollwork. The impressive windows of stained glass were on Yuuri's side. But, even if he could look at them, today there was no sunshine to fall through.

Wolfram heard the king ease himself into the bath. He watched Yuuri open a small cabinet next to the pool and take a bottle of shampoo. Yuuri was still sensitive about other people's touch and Wolfram didn't offer to do it for him.

When Yuuri started washing his hair, Wolfram climbed out of the bath. He dried himself and, as it was evening already and he was feeling hot, dressed into a shirt and trousers, allowing himself to leave the jacket off. He left the dirty clothes in the basket next to the entrance and, without noticing Yuuri's thoughtful gaze on his back, exited the baths. There were still twenty minutes left until dinner and headed upstairs back into his room.

He found the book he had started reading two days ago. The title was _The Art of War_ and Yuuri had given him a somewhat upset look when he first saw him holding it. Yuuri was a pacifist to the core. Meanwhile, Wolfram was not that certain that Yuuri's good fortune would last for much longer and knew that the time might come when the peaceful demonstration of the Demon King's power wouldn't be enough. Sometimes, war was needed to keep the peace.

Wolfram found the king naïve. But, at the same time, he admired his innocence. He knew that deep down Yuuri realized that, but he also believed that Yuuri would do anything to avoid bloodshed. The thing that was worrying Wolfram, though, was that he was not certain how far Yuuri would go in his effort to defend his viewpoint. He didn't want to get up one morning and find that an army had invaded and usurped Shin Makoku because Yuuri had lacked decision and resolution.

Wolfram closed the book and put it aside on the table. He had turned the page but realized that his eyes had been the only ones taking part in the reading process – his brain had abstained and he could not remember a thing he had read. Recently, he could not concentrate on anything, feeling restless. The reason was Yuuri's upcoming birthday. It was going to be a huge banquet with people coming in throngs. But that was not the only reason for his restlessness. He was excited, excited to the point he felt giddy with anticipation and nervousness.

For Demons, it was the age of sixteen when they were admitted into adulthood. For Humans, the number was eighteen. This was what Conrart had told him. He was certain that Yuuri was going to announce the date of their wedding during the banquet. He had been waiting for this moment forever, it seemed.

Wolfram submerged into his thoughts then resurfaced from them at the sound of the dinner bell. He left the room and climbed downstairs, meeting Gwendal on his way. They exchanged a few phrases summing up their monotonous workday. Then, together with others, they filed into the dining room.

The dinner passed in an excited hubbub created mostly by Gunter and Cecilie. Gunter had been talking excitedly about the preparations involved for the birthday celebration. Gunter liked banquets. He loved hustling and bustling halls. Wolfram knew that it was more than Gunter enjoying a busy evening. It was because every banquet had inexhaustible opportunities to make useful social contacts and to consolidate the existing ones. Gunter was a politician to his bones.

After dinner, Wolfram left the table and went to the balcony to sit down on a bench there. The balcony had been open while they had been dining but it did almost nothing to refresh the sweltering heat. There was not a sign of wind. The black clouds were suspended above in silence.

Wolfram watched the hushed and empty garden; the birds and animals had hidden themselves from the oncoming storm. He turned his head to look at Yuuri, who joined him on the bench a few minutes later.

"Seems like it's going to be stormy tonight, isn't it?" Yuuri said conversationally.

Wolfram nodded. Yuuri was content after the lavish dinner. He stretched out onto the bench, reclining his head and exhaled blissfully. Wolfram chuckled softly at the immodest display.

"Your manners are outrageous."

Yuuri gave him a grin. "Oh, allow me a breather from being all kingly and mighty."

"Mmm…" hummed Wolfram, "and which part of you, exactly, is kingly and mighty?"

"I'd say my horse."

Wolfram chuckled again. He turned away from Yuuri and, following his fiancé's example, also reclined his head and relaxed. A small drop of rain wetted his cheek and he enjoyed the freshness it offered. He liked these moments with Yuuri when they could put all their problems behind them. They were even more precious as Yuuri was frequently absent for long periods of time. For Yuuri, those were mere days or weeks. Here, though, they turned into months.

He could understand Yuuri and knew that it was hard and demanding to meet requirements of two absolutely different worlds. The thing was that at the same time he thought that Yuuri had his priorities mixed up. He was the Demon King and this was his kingdom and this was his place. For all Wolfram cared, the Earth could explode.

Sometimes he wished it did.

Wolfram turned his head to look at Yuuri. The king's eyes were closed. He was blissfully enjoying the calm evening. He always liked looking at how contrasting Yuuri's long dark eyelashes seemed against his skin. Yuuri's dark eyes, hair, eyebrows and eyelashes had always seemed exotic to him, even after he had gotten used to his fiancé's looks. He found Yuuri very attractive and maybe that was one of the main reasons why five years ago the idea of being Yuuri's fiancé didn't upset him, even grew on him like his second skin.

If it had mostly been Yuuri's looks at first, later it had been more about… Wolfram wasn't certain what exactly it had been about, but its final result had been love. He had fallen for Yuuri, and hard. Yuuri was the first one he had fallen in love with. It hadn't been a flash of lightning or anything, and, as he hadn't been experienced in the matters of romance, the realization had come gradually.

He still wasn't experienced when it came to the matters of romance. He wanted to be, wanted very much.

Yuuri's eyes snapped open and he jerked away from Wolfram as if someone had scalded him with burning oil. Wolfram tried to kiss him again and, this time, Yuuri pushed at the blond's chest roughly, moving away from him. Yuuri yelped as he suddenly slid off the bench. The painful howl that followed Yuuri's fall made Wolfram's blood stop in his veins.

Wolfram's outstretched hand hovered in the air for a few moments while he was staring down at Yuuri. As if in a dream, the blond's eyes focused on his still outstretched arm which had failed to catch Yuuri. Then his attention returned to Yuuri, who was writhing in pain on the floor and holding his left arm. It was bent in a very unnatural shape.

Wolfram shook himself off the trance and sprang to Yuuri. "Gisela, call Gisela!" he yelled towards the dining room. "Yuuri has broken his arm!" He held his hands over Yuuri but didn't touch him and, at the same time, Yuuri raised his eyes to give Wolfram an accusing look.

In fact, Wolfram couldn't help Yuuri. Gisela was going to come and do what needed to be done. He had seen his share of broken bones but his skill came to nothing when compared to a professional's. It was best to just wait for the doctor to come.

Gisela rushed into the dining room a few minutes later. She passed the crowd of onlookers, set her bag with instruments down, and leaned over Yuuri. She cut Yuuri's sleeve off with scissors to reveal the place of fracture. After a few prods and a dozen of painful shrieks from Yuuri, he had his arm in a sling in ten minutes. He was given a cup of bitter medicine and escorted to his bedroom where he soon fell asleep.

Wolfram returned to his room. He was still shaking when he sat down on his bed. He was in shock. He could still see his desperately outstretched hand and Yuuri's accusing look. Accusing, angry with him for trying to… The thought of them kissing was so repulsive to Yuuri that he had fallen off the bench.

The realization had come to Wolfram on the balcony. But now the full extent of it hit him like a rock between the eyes. The pain in his stomach was sharp and pulsing and he felt faint.

He had noticed, of course, had noticed long ago. Only that he had chosen to justify, ignore or pretend not to notice those peculiar things Yuuri had been doing for five years. He had put them down to Yuuri's ignorance of Shin Makoku customs, his extreme shyness, their different characters or interests. To anything but the expression of Yuuri's true feelings. He had known that chasing after Yuuri had turned into a humiliating addiction. But despite knowing this, he could not stop himself.

Wolfram used to get everything he wanted. He loved Yuuri. There had not even been a thought about Yuuri not loving him back. It was unthinkable, inconceivable and…very painful. Yuuri was a challenge and he had also believed that Yuuri just needed a push and he would realize he liked him. There was no way Yuuri wouldn't. And during all these five years, he had given his all to make him realize they were meant for each other. He had nearly pushed Yuuri off both the literal and proverbial cliff. This time, it was a bench. Next time, gods only knew.

About half a year ago, Yuuri had also started locking his chambers before going to sleep. He didn't allow any touch nor touched himself. Yuuri also seemed awkward after catching Wolfram's dreamy gaze. Not that Wolfram did that frequently – he instinctively knew and tried to avoid causing this kind of reaction. Delusion tasted much sweeter than rejection.

He should have let go long ago, but his entire essence protested against the very thought. He loved Yuuri, had created thousands of future plans in his head for them both together. He had been deluding himself, though. How low would he have sunk further if not for this evening?

It was enough, simply enough.

The decision made it all somehow better even though he was overwhelmed by a wave of self-pity. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He left the bed and, staggering like a drunk, went for his wardrobe. He clumsily peeled his shirt off then pulled his trousers off and found his nightshirt. He climbed back into the bed and fell into a restless slumber.

In the morning, Wolfram rolled out of the bed at the usual time but without any enthusiasm. He washed his face in the bowl and then dried it. Looking in the mirror, he groaned at the sight of his ghastly face. He tried to fix this with cream and a sprinkle of powder but the result was so terrifying that, in the end, he washed it all off. He dressed in his uniform and combed his rebellious hair. Deciding that he looked awful but just right for a man who was going to call off his engagement, Wolfram left his room.

The blond started every morning with exercising with his men or riding Kerda. Today, though, he had no heart for this. He was so nervous that all he could do was keep himself from running around the castle in search of Gwendal. He doubted he would be able to concentrate on anything. He wanted to be done with this as soon as possible.

Wolfram had hardly slept all night, thinking. And when he did sleep, his dreams were interrupted by various images, coiling in his psyche and permeating him to the core. Through all this, he could hear thunder rumbling, flashes of light reached him even through closed eyelids, and he could feel the bed vibrating. Before dawn came, though, he had already steeled himself to do the unthinkable – to terminate the engagement.

Walking past a window, the prince noticed that there had been not a sign left of the violent storm last night. The thirsty ground had greedily drunk the offering. The small puddles which were still visible were already evaporating into the morning air. This was going to be another day of boiling hot weather.

First, Wolfram wanted to consult Gwendal. When it involved the king of the country, it was not only his concern but the entire country's as well. In fact, he didn't want to discuss the matter with his elder brother but right now, Gwendal was the only one he could seek help from.

Gwendal was an early bird and Wolfram found him outside, on his horse, next to the stables. At first, the general paid him no attention as coming to the stables belonged to Wolfram's morning routine. Then, after looking at his face more intently, he climbed off his horse; this was serious.

"What is it?"

"Good morning," Wolfram nodded, somewhat amused and warmed up by the concern in his brother's voice. Trust Gwendal to know from one glance that he was in trouble. "I would like to talk to you."

"Alright. Let's go to my study."

"Oh, we can talk after you're done here," Wolfram said, motioning with his hand at Gwendal's horse.

Gwendal raised his eyebrows at him, wordlessly asking him why he had come here, then.

Wolfram was somewhat ashamed. "Well, yes. I simply can't think about anything else."

Gwendal threw the reins to one of the soldiers and, silently, both he and Wolfram turned back to the castle. Once in Gwendal's study, the general motioned for his brother to sit down. Gwendal himself moved into his usual place behind his desk. He pulled his chair closer to the desk, leaned back into it, put his arms onto the desk, crossed his fingers and raised his eyebrows, encouraging Wolfram to speak.

"I'm thinking about annulling my and Yuuri's engagement."

Gwendal's eyebrows reached unimaginable heights. "You are?" he finally managed.

Wolfram nodded. He found Gwendal's reaction funny. Everything seemed so…unreal. He felt somehow detached. He had reached the decision last night, burned it into his brain, and now he was just following it blindly.

"What resulted in this sudden decision?"

Wolfram shifted in his seat uneasily. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Gwendal gave him an inquiring look but didn't pressure. "Are you really certain?" he asked.

"Yes, I am absolutely certain," Wolfram confirmed.

Gwendal nodded. "You're doing the right thing." He gave a surprised Wolfram a serious look. "I just regret you didn't do this earlier."

Wolfram found himself wanting to ask why but then closed his mouth. He knew why. He guessed that any bystander could see that his and Yuuri's relationship didn't work. There was nothing potential between them. He could presume that Gwendal had been painfully aware of everything which had been happening during these endless five years.

"Have you discussed this with His Majesty?"

"No, not yet. First, I wanted to consult you and know your opinion on this matter."

"You have my full support," Gwendal said nodding. "I see why you're concerned – there are less than two weeks left until the King's birthday. Nonetheless, if handled properly, there won't be much commotion either way. So will you wait or do it now?"

"Why should I wait? This will be a perfect birthday present for Yuuri."

"Save your sarcasm for some other time. So how about it?"

"I want to do it as fast as possible. Today sounds perfect." Wolfram could see that Gwendal wanted to ask him if he wasn't being too rash but then his brother swallowed the question and nodded. Wolfram lowered his eyes to the surface of the desk. "This farce has been going on for too long already." Both of them understood that the sooner it was done, the less painful it would be and he could start recovering faster.

"Alright, I'll ready the documents," said Gwendal. "You go and talk to His Majesty. After he has had his breakfast, preferably."

"I don't think it's necessary. He will know and understand at once why after seeing the document."

"Wolfram, I know that you're upset and hurting, but common sense demands you talk to him first. You will regret it later if you don't talk to him first," Gwendal added.

Wolfram gave him an unhappy look. "Alright," he said, leaving his chair. He knew he was behaving cowardly, but he was apprehensive of his reaction after seeing Yuuri. It was easier to do this when the person involved was not in front of him.

It was quiet at the breakfast table. At first, Yuuri had to assure everyone that his arm was not hurting and that Gisela said it was going to heal nicely. After that, the conversations dried up. Tentatively, Gunter tried to regain some of yesterday's good mood, but the air was filled with impending inevitability. Wolfram noticed that Yuuri was avoiding meeting his eyes and when they accidentally did, he would lower his head guiltily. In turn, this made Wolfram feel guilty as well. Yuuri knew he had hurt his feelings. But it had been him who had been demanding Yuuri's attention even if Yuuri never seemed interested. Yuuri didn't pretend that there could ever be anything between them. The only thing he could accuse Yuuri of was the lack of sternness. Yuuri should have just annulled their engagement instead of allowing him to live in that vain hope.

When breakfast was over, Yuuri went to his study to fight the hordes of paperwork. Wolfram gave him a few minutes to settle in his workplace then knocked on the door.

"Wolfram," Yuuri said a little surprised when he saw Wolfram enter his study.

"We need to talk," Wolfram said, walking over to the chair in front of Yuuri's desk. He motioned at the chair. "May I?"

"Oh yes, of course. Why so formal?" Yuuri wondered, forcing out a laugh. He patted the stack of papers on his desk with his right hand. "It would have been perfect if you had aimed for my right arm. No paperwork for me, then," he tried to joke guessing that Wolfram had come to apologize. He quieted uneasily as the prince frowned at him.

"I didn't aim for your arms at all," Wolfram muttered, looking at Yuuri's black uniform. "What I had been aiming at was your heart, Yuuri." He raised his head to meet Yuuri's eyes. As usual, Yuuri avoided the statement by looking anywhere but him. This time, his gaze went out of the window to stare at the Royal Gardens.

Once again, Wolfram swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. "Don't worry, I realized that it's impossible. I want us to annul our engagement." Now he had Yuuri's full attention. No matter how painful it was, after seeing Yuuri's reaction, Wolfram knew that he had done the right thing. Yuuri's face showed everything: he was shocked, disbelieving, unsure, uneasy, but, mostly, he seemed to be relieved.

"You sure?" he asked after a long pause.

"And you are asking me this after what happened yesterday?"

Wolfram's voice was hoarse and Yuuri sagged in his chair, his shoulders slumping guiltily upon remembering the thwarted kiss. "I…" he trailed off not knowing what to say. "Mm… I…"

Wolfram took pity on him. He stood up. "I see that you agree with the annulment. Gwendal is preparing the documents for you to sign. They should be ready by noon." He started walking towards the door, indicating that the conversation was over.

Yuuri watched the blond's back. "Wolfram…"

The prince raised his hand, cutting Yuuri off. He shook his head. "Don't. There's nothing to say."

All Yuuri could see was the back of the blond's head but he winced at the way Wolfram's voice sounded. This was what he had been trying to avoid all this time. He didn't want to see Wolfram suffer like this. He had wanted… Gods, he just wanted to be friends with Wolfram.

"I'm sorry," Yuuri muttered just before the prince closed the door.

Once Wolfram left, Yuuri slumped over his desk, his forehead thumping against it. He wasn't sorry because of the annulment. This should have been done earlier. He was sorry he had disappointed Wolfram so much. He was the one who never disappointed anyone, the one who always tried to justify everyone's trust in him. Wolfram was someone he loved, respected, and trusted with his own life but he couldn't give Wolfram the one thing he truly wanted. He could give it to any average girl, but not to Wolfram.

Sometimes, he even wished he could.

He was sorry about the pain he was causing Wolfram. He was also afraid that this was going to affect their relationship irreparably. He knew it was going to. There was no way it wouldn't. Groaning, Yuuri rubbed his face with his hands.

Tbc


	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**A/N 7.** _First of all, thank you for your comments. You can't imagine how happy I am to see you, my old readers, return. It's probably the most rewarding feeling of all. I can't promise a perfect story for you, but I promise that I did my best writing it._

_One reader tried guessing what the title means. Yes, Bloom is about Wolfram finding himself and discovering new things. I don't dare use the word "grow up", since he's already twenty. It's more about discovering himself. I don't want to speculate or explain more because it is against my policy to give spoilers so early in the story. I can just say that this is really a Wolfram-centric fanfic._

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 2

Yuuri raised his head up from the document he had been signing to look at Gwendal entering his study. Gwendal was carrying a few pages of paper. Judging from the expression on the general's face, these were the documents Wolfram had been talking about. Wolfram hadn't been kidding when he said they would be ready by noon. So fast.

Yuuri pushed everything aside from his desk to make space for these documents. Yuuri took them from the general and, with his head, motioned at the seat in front of his desk. The silence was grating on his nerves but he didn't know what to say. Instead, he concentrated on the papers in his right hand. There were two copies of the same document. Both of them already bore Wolfram's signatures. He started reading the first one.

"This was sudden, wasn't it?" he said when he had read them through.

"No. What was sudden was the engagement. Its termination has been going on for five years already."

Yuuri gave the general a wry smile. For him, because of the time flow difference between Earth and Shin Makoku, it had been three and a half. Despite this, he nodded. "Yes, I've been avoiding confronting this for far too long."

"It's for the best," Gwendal said. "You're a good man, Yuuri, a good king, but you are not the one for Wolfram – it will never work."

Without answering, Yuuri lowered the papers and reached for his pen. Gwendal rarely spoke so openly and he had to respect that. Slowly, Yuuri put his signature on the first and then the second copy. "This is it," he said, putting his pen down. He gathered the documents and held them out for the general to take.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Gwendal said. Without adding anything else, he took the papers and left the room.

When Gwendal returned to his study, he found Wolfram where he had left him five minutes ago before going to Yuuri to get his signatures. Numbly, he waved the papers in the air. "It's over." The greenness in Wolfram's eyes became overflowing.

The blond stood up and met him halfway to his desk to ascertain for himself. The signatures, indeed, were there, blue on white. The elaborate signature with scrolls and quirks Gunter had taught him. Wolfram stared at the sheets of paper in his hand. He suddenly realized that deep down he had expected Yuuri to rush in shouting: 'I'll never let you go! Never!' This had only been wishful thinking, of course. If that wasn't enough, Yuuri had signed them in five minutes.

Wolfram's lips formed a wry smile. It was over now.

A few clear droplets fell on the documents and Gwendal pulled them out of Wolfram's fingers to carry them over to his desk. He put them down and turned back to his brother. He hesitated between ignoring Wolfram's tears and trying to console him. Time healed all wounds, and there was plenty of fish in the sea. Right. But somehow, now, seeing Wolfram reduced to this broken mess didn't make it so believable. He wanted to feel Yuuri's neck snapping in his hands.

Wiping at his tears angrily, Wolfram lowered his forehead on Gwendal's shoulder when his brother embraced him. "I'm sorry," he breathed out, embarrassed, while Gwendal was stroking his hair. He swallowed loudly then took in a few lungfuls but instead of calming him down, this made the dam burst. He started chocking on his tears. "Th-this is so disgraceful," he rasped out.

Gwendal patted him on his back awkwardly. "Don't worry about it; it's only natural." He produced a handkerchief out of his pocket. He gave it to Wolfram.

"Th-thanks."

While Wolfram was blowing his nose, Gwendal guided him to the chair. He gently pushed on his brother's shoulders to seat him there. Not knowing what to do, he stood in front of the sniffling blond. He stroked Wolfram's shoulder comfortingly.

"It's okay. It's over now."

Gwendal winced when this made Wolfram hiccup and hide his face deeper into the handkerchief. He had never been very good at consoling people. He rubbed Wolfram's shoulder again and then retreated to his place at the desk where he thought he would cause less damage. He fidgeted with his fingers on the desk while Wolfram blew his nose.

"Thanks," Wolfram muttered.

"Keep it," Gwendal said quickly, noticing that his brother was fidgeting with the wet handkerchief, unsure.

Wolfram smiled at him then hiccupped. "I'll return it after it's been washed."

Gwendal watched the reddish eyes and teary face. Wolfram was wiping at his cheeks with his fingers, seemingly calmer. "You okay now?"

"Yes, somewhat." Seeing Gwendal's worried face, he shook his head. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"You'd better be. We still have to make the announcement at lunch." He looked at his watch. "In fifteen minutes, in fact."

"Mother will be disappointed."

Gwendal's eyebrows rose slightly. He hummed something out, but restrained himself from commenting. He doubted this would disappoint or even surprise the former queen. Another thing which had kept him from commenting was that their mother would probably start seeing Yuuri as a potential object of interest. Cecilie was morally flexible concerning her lovers.

**oOoOo_About two weeks later_oOoOo**

Long, encumbered tables lined the hall. Fruit, snacks, bottles of wine and bowls of punch were waiting for the surge of a hungry mob. The hall was still empty but for the servants straightening the tablecloths and adding last minute touches to the setting. Three maids rushed in with vases filled with fresh flowers. The heavy vases found place on the tables as well.

Absentmindedly leaning on the rails of the stair, Wolfram watched the scurrying servants. Unlike his family, he hadn't been waiting in anticipation for the banquet. He, like the servants, thought this a hassle. He didn't like banquets and the fake pleasantries which came with them. Sometimes, it was like watching a comedy, only that he didn't find the play amusing and wished for it to end faster.

During the last few days, Blood Pledge Castle had become a temporary home for many noble families and their servants who had arrived from the furthest regions of Shin Makoku or overseas kingdoms. Their rooms were on the opposite wing of the castle. This was another reason why Wolfram didn't like banquets – one had to, somehow, keep all of the guests occupied for as long as possible. If not, there would not be a moment when one wouldn't stumble across curious guests wandering through the castle halls. Even then, one had to be ready to smile and to plunge into absolutely meaningless conversations.

Wolfram sighed and pushed himself off the rail. Ten more minutes and people would start flooding the hall. This was going to be one endless day. Wolfram turned his head as one of the doors opened, letting in a horde of musicians. He hoped that at least the music was going to be good. From what he had vaguely heard during their rehearsals in the yard, they were not bad at all.

Dancing was another thing Wolfram didn't like. Listening to music was something he enjoyed, but dancing… He supposed he was average at dancing but he didn't like the close proximity of the bodies as he was sensitive to other people invading his personal space. The only body he would have liked to invade his space and be very proximate with always refused to dance with him anyway.

After musing about all things he didn't like about banquets, Wolfram tried to look on the brighter side. Not that he believed there was one. It was simply because Gwendal had told him long ago that it was easier that way.

Wolfram reached the end of the stairs. Then, waiting for his family to show up, he sidled up to a wall. Soon enough, the household entered the hall and the last thing he knew he was being swept up with the rising tide. Soon, he was standing close to the throne and watching the guests flood in to congratulate the king on his birthday. Puffed dresses, smart tailcoats, and medaled uniforms rustled and swooshed all around.

A row had formed while the herald announced everyone's names, ranks, and social status. Yuuri greeted and smiled brightly at everyone, nodding and accepting curtsies and, to Wolfram's understanding, more importantly, expensive gifts.

"The Count and Countess of Desmaria, Perilus and Secilie von Donara."

A bow and a curtsy followed, greetings were exchanged and another couple stopped in front of the throne.

"The Duke of Raizgad, Eldara von Ashira and Lady Halea von Ashira."

"Thank you very much for coming, Your Grace, My Lady. I hope your stay will be pleasant."

"Thank you very much. I'm sure it will be, Your Majesty," Lady von Ashira said, curtsying.

"Your Majesty."

Interested, Yuuri watched the duke bow. The Duke of Raizgad was the one the King of Kardera had sent in his place. Yuuri wondered how much of the illness was true and how much of it was pretended. Shin Makoku had tried to form friendly, diplomatic ties with the Kingdom of Kardera but the king didn't seem to want to have anything to do with Shin Makoku, and Demons in general. Fortunately, he didn't seem to be interested in joining alliances against Shin Makoku, either.

The duke was a tall, handsome man who seemed to be in his mid-twenties with an oblong face and regular features. His blue eyes and small mouth had a certain sternness about them. He had long dark hair with a dark tinge of violet, wearing it loose and letting it cascade down his shoulders and to the small of his back. The duke was wearing a long military jacket which Yuuri found similar to Gwendal's only that the duke's was brown. Yuuri noticed that it was free of medals.

Yuuri looked at Halea von Ashira. She was a beautiful young woman wearing a blue dress which, according to the latest fashion, was encumbered by elaborate laces and ribbons. It was obvious that the duke and she were related by blood – Yuuri guessed that she was his sister; he would have to look this up in archives later. The woman was younger but had the same-colored hair and was tall as well. Her sparkling eyes, though, were brown and with much more warmth in them than the duke's.

"Liustras von Spinta," the herald introduced and, smiling, Yuuri turned his eyes to the next people in the row.

When the introductions were over, the guests were asked to join the table. Servants started bringing in hot meals and, holding a glass of wine, Gunter stood up to give a speech. After which, Yuuri thanked everyone one more time for coming to celebrate with him and invited everyone to enjoy the banquet.

With soft music playing in the background, Wolfram emptied his second glass of wine. He wasn't hungry, but, trying not to stand out, he accepted some of the stewed pork offered by one of the servants. He cut a small piece of it and started chewing idly.

Once people were full, they started drifting around in the hall, introducing each other, talking. Wolfram turned to look at Yuuri, who was surrounded by a circle of varicolored puffed dresses, giggles and endless flirting. Irritated, Wolfram sipped his wine. Figures. As soon as the news of them breaking up started going around, Yuuri suddenly became every woman's dream. Who wouldn't want to marry a king, after all?

Wolfram snickered to himself silently. It was obvious that Yuuri adored the attention. He could see how happy his wimp was to be finally able to freely enjoy the attention of women. Wasn't this every man's dream, after all? To be surrounded by beautiful women who fought for him amongst themselves.

On the other side of the hall, the Duke of Raizgad was leaning on a windowsill and looking at the Royal Garden outside. He figured that when the heat let up, they would be invited to look around there. He was looking forward to it. He sighed and took a sip from his glass. This was only the beginning of the banquet and he was already bored out of his mind. He wished his king had found someone else to stand in for him.

He started and nearly spilled his glass as someone touched his shoulder. "Ah, isn't this my dear sister?" he said in a slightly reproachful tone after turning around.

"Careful with that wine," Halea said. She patted him on his shoulder. "Hang on in there, Eldara. Your self-sacrifice won't go unnoticed, I promise."

The duke gave her a short smile. "The best reward would be if you finally married," he said. "Regarding that, any luck with the king?"

Churning her wine in her glass, Halea sighed. She looked over where the king was surrounded by a throng of excited women. "No. He seems to like them blond and stupid."

Eldara's eyes found Wolfram von Bielefeld. "Obviously," he said, grinning.

She elbowed him lightly. "Stop it. I heard it was a heartbreaking separation."

"Oh, I have no doubts about that," Eldara said. "I'd also be heartbroken if I lost so much money and influence."

Halea shrugged. "You're probably right not believing in love. But I haven't lost my hope to find the one."

"Yes," the duke saluted her with his glass, "good luck with that. As long as you believe that all your problems lie in your 'not blond' hair and you 'not being stupid', everything should be alright."

Halea's brow rose at him. "I don't want to hear that from someone who is thirty-one and is still a bachelor."

Eldara grinned at her. "And thank gods for that!" He raised his glass. "To my future brother-in-law, then?"

"Sure," she said, clinking her glass against his. "But mark my words, one day you will die of too much sarcasm."

"Better than of syphilis anyway."

* * *

><p>The next two hours found Wolfram lounging about in the hall. He was hot and tired, somewhat drunk, and could not stop sulking. He felt better when some of the tables were moved outside and everyone was invited to go into the garden. He found a bench under a lime tree and settled there.<p>

Wolfram didn't have much peace as soon he found himself encircled by women. Maybe he would have been pleased about his popularity but this meant that they had lost hope to succeed with Yuuri. Even if he had absolutely no interest in women, getting leftovers was hurting his pride. To his dismay, he had no much choice except to smile stupidly and maintain the conversations. He started developing a headache.

From about ten meters away, the Duke of Raizgad was distractedly watching his sister's futile attempts to get Wolfram von Bielefeld's attention. He could tell that it was a lost cause. The blond was participating in conversations and even squeezing out a smile here and a laugh there, but, in general, he looked as if someone was sticking needles under his fingernails. The duke chuckled silently as his sister seemed to have finally realized that and left the circle, looking for someone else to pester.

"Eldara von Ashira. How nice of you to come to Shin Makoku, Your Grace."

Eldara turned around to look at Cecilie von Spitzweg. He took his glass in his left hand and reached the proffered hand. "Your Highness," he said before kissing it.

She smiled at him coquettishly. "Still as gallant as ever."

"Ma'am," Eldara said, letting go of her hand and straightening, "when we met last time, I was just a ten-year-old. I think I could have been anything – hyperactive, bratty, or insolent, anything but gallant."

Cecilie's glass also returned to her right hand while she was smiling at him charmingly. "Oh, even then you were showing signs of success."

Accepting the compliment, Eldara bowed.

She looked at his uniform closer. "I see His Grace isn't wearing any of his medals today…"

"They jingle too much, Ma'am; with them, I sound like a belled cat taking a stroll."

Cecilie laughed softly. "Now you're boasting."

Eldara smiled. "Maybe."

Cecilie came closer to him and softly clinked their glasses together. "You did a wonderful job at raising your siblings."

Eldara bowed again. "This is not my achievement at all, Ma'am. I had a lot of servants to take care of them."

"Oh, don't be so modest, dear. I know how hard it is."

"You are too kind, Ma'am."

"If you bow one more time, your back might break."

Eldara chuckled. "Then it's better to stop embarrassing me, Ma'am."

"And, please, humor me and drop the honorifics, dear. I'm too old and you're too young for that."

They looked at each other, smiling. Eldara brought his glass to his lips. And why in the world did Orinth the Fifth send him here? There were so many other people who loved banquets and these idiotic conversations. Why him? He wished he could just get drunk and fall asleep in front of a fireplace like he sometimes did at home. Getting drunk here, though, might lead to him falling asleep with his head in a salad bowl. Not that it was the worst thing that could happen.

"Excuse me for asking, but how old is Halea?" Cecilie roused him from his dark thoughts.

"My sister?" Eldara asked, somewhat surprised. "She's nearly twenty."

"About time to get married."

"Tell me about it," Eldara muttered, sipping from his glass. At least, the wine was good. "She is getting more and more restless with every passing month. Children would do good for her."

"I think my Gwendal would be a good match. He should have married long ago as well."

"Gwendal von Voltaire?" the duke looked at her incredulously. "But he's a Demon."

"Oh, but I heard you have nothing against Demons."

Eldara gave her a searching look. "That's so, but I'm not the one who would have to live with one."

Cecilie suddenly offered him such a bright smile that it nearly blinded the duke. "Oh, what a wonderful idea! You'd be a nice pair!"

Stunned, Eldara stared at the innocently smiling Cecilie. "Who? Me and Gwendal von Voltaire?" His eyes found the older man in the hall. Noticing the sharp stare, von Voltaire turned to look at him. His right eyebrow rose at him questioningly.

Eldara gave him a polite smile and lowered his eyes to Cecilie. "I don't think this is possible. We have… Besides, he's already married. To Shin Makoku."

"Oh? You prefer women, then?"

The duke gave Cecilie a somewhat strained smile. So this was where it had been leading. It always was. "They are better at some things than men, I suppose."

"Oh?" Cecilie drawled, her finger's sliding over the duke's arm lightly. "Which things that may be?"

"Sewing, for example. Or spending money. Bearing children is also their specialty."

Cecilie chuckled lightly. "I assure you that if I were your wife, now you'd be listing other things women are good at."

"Mother?"

The duke turned to see Gwendal von Voltaire standing a step behind him. He realized that his face must have shown relief because the corners of von Voltaire's lips quirked up. Eldara quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression and nodded. "Your Highness." Gwendal must have thought that the previous glance he had given the man had been a call for help and now the man had gallantly come to his rescue.

"Your Grace." Then Gwendal turned to Cecilie. "Mother, Countess Larensi has expressed a wish to share her experience of her travels with you."

"Oh, Gwendal, dear," Cecilie turned to take him by his arm and brought him closer to the duke. "We have just been discussing that you and Eldara would make a wonderful pair!"

Eldara hid his face behind his wineglass and took a sip, indicating he had nothing to do with this. Meanwhile Gwendal gave him a questioning look.

"I'm very sorry, Your Grace, but you're not my type," he said, inclining his head slightly. "Mother," he said, firmly taking Cecilie by her arm and leading her away.

Speechless, the duke stared at von Voltaire's back.

"Eldara?"

The duke looked at his sister, who had lightly tugged him on his left sleeve.

"What happened? You look somehow shaken up."

"Hmm…" Taking his time, Eldara emptied his glass. "Well, I think I was proposed to and then rudely rejected. I'm still thinking whether I should feel insulted or honored or both."

"By whom?"

"By Cecilie von Spitzweg and Gwendal von Voltaire."

Halea patted him on his arm soothingly. "Well, Cecilie has already proposed herself to some ten men today, so it's not a big deal. Now the part with von Voltaire sounds a bit more interesting."

"He said I'm not his type."

Halea gave him a surprised look then gasped. "You what? Just went and tried to pick him up? You really have balls of steel!"

The duke resisted the urge to slap himself on his forehead. "Language," he warned. "It's just the third time I saw the man. Von Voltaire is…not really what I look for in a partner, either. It was only a misunderstanding."

Halea smiled at him sheepishly. "Right. Well, they say that love from the first sight does exist…" She chuckled. "So he hurt your pride, huh?"

Eldara stared at her for a few seconds. "Just a little," he admitted with a light chuckle. "However, I'll be civil and just ignore this and go get myself some more wine."

Halea shrugged. She followed her brother, who had started making his way towards the tables which held food and drinks. He was grateful that nobody stopped him on his mission, and, in a beeline, he went for the drinks. Before he could do that, he was overtaken by one of the servants who scurried over to him with a tray with wineglasses. Thanking, he took one.

The siblings found an unoccupied bench. The sun was already setting and Eldara was looking forward to it. Maybe, there would be a chance to slip out of the banquet unnoticed. Maybe his wish to get drunk and fall asleep in front of a fireplace could still be fulfilled. Come to think of it, did they have a fireplace in their room here?

He watched Halea eating a cream biscuit. He fought the urge to wipe the crumbs off her lips. Sometimes, he forgot she was not a child anymore. He was going to miss her after she married.

"Here," he indicated on his own lips. "Some crumbs."

"Oh. Thanks," she said wiping them off with a handkerchief which had suddenly appeared in her hands. The duke didn't even want to think about where she was carrying it.

"Actually, Cecilie von Spitzweg said she wouldn't mind if Gwendal and you married."

"Eww…he's even older than you! And has she even asked him?"

Eldara scowled. "Thank you very much, my dear sister. But, actually, you should give him some more thought. He's a very good candidate. Being over forty means that he's pretty much seen and done his share of fun and now he is ready to settle down. He knows what he wants from life and what to expect from it. He's a man with experience so to speak."

"Yes, with fixed habits and routines, some of which might involve leaving socks scattered all over the floor, farting at the dinner table, and going to a brothel on Sundays."

"Language. You shouldn't think you can change a younger man's habits, either. I must warn you that it's a faulty conviction."

Halea rolled her head from one shoulder to another then massaged the back of her neck. The duke realized that she was tired as well. "Thanks for the warning," she said. "But… Besides, he's a Demon."

The duke shrugged. "If you marry, you'll live in Shin Makoku. They are very tolerant of Humans in the capital. There will be no one to point fingers at you and you'd create an important tie between the countries."

"Yeah, right. And in case our countries decide to attack each other, I'd also be an important hostage."

The duke sighed. "You have a point here. Alright, just do what you want."

"I'd rather go for von Bielefeld. He's younger and more handsome."

"Thick as a brick as well." The duke inspected the wine in his glass, sighing. "Hmm…" he hummed. "But, yes, this might be exactly what one wants in a husband." He shrugged when his sister glared at him. "He would definitely be easier to bend to your will than von Voltaire. But I think you shouldn't waste your time with von Bielefeld," he said. "He doesn't seem to be a ladies' man."

"He's just heartbroken, the poor thing. He'll come round soon enough."

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Wh- Ohhh… Really?"

The duke shrugged. "I can't be certain but it seems so."

"He will still have to have children, you know."

The duke gave her an annoyed look. "I really hope you're kidding, Halea. I won't allow you to marry just to…"

Chuckling, Halea patted her brother lightly on his arm. "Of course, I am kidding. I would never choose someone you don't approve of. I value your opinion above all."

The duke blinked slowly in surprise. "Well, that's something I don't hear every day."

"That's because I don't say it every day."

* * *

><p>The rest of the evening was calm: people were dancing, some of them got drunk and caused a scene or two but nothing was out of the ordinary. Wolfram had thought about slipping out of the banquet earlier, but then he had found a pretty safe spot on a bench placed between bushes and a fountain from where he could not be easily detected and, since nobody disturbed him, he stayed. He listened to the music, to the voices and laughter and found it somehow soothing. The only drawback was mosquitoes.<p>

At some point Wolfram realized that he wasn't sitting alone anymore. He hadn't even noticed how he had approached but now a man was sitting on the other end of the bench. Vaguely, Wolfram's buzzed mind identified him as Duke-something. Duke-something saluted him with his glass after noticing his stare but otherwise didn't disturb his solitude with any words. It seemed that Duke-something was also hiding from unwanted attention. When he looked at the other end of the bench twenty or so minutes later, Duke-something was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging, Wolfram finished another glass of wine and put it down onto the ground next to ten other empty ones.

Tbc


	3. Part 3

**Guest**: Duke-something is Eldara von Ashira. I think everyone understood that, but just in case :) He is one peculiar character with many contradictions. Well, hopefully Wolfram will recover bit by bit.

**Alicia Spinet**: thanks for your comment and questions. Wolfram's age is one of the reasons why I warned that I tend to ignore anime/manga. I don't like how they count Wolfram's age. For being that old how they say, he acts like an idiot in the anime. Does he look 87 to you? And I also don't believe that the Mazoku develop so slowly that only when they are 70, they finally reach mental capabilities of an average fifteen-year-old Human. If it has something to do with faster season exchange in Shin Makoku (faster planet's rotation) and years going five times faster than on Earth…whatever – we still need to bring that age close to that of a Human to be able to compare their growth in all aspects.

There's a reason why I have a difference between Yuuri's and Wolfram's ages. I can't exactly remember but I think when Yuuri goes away and then returns to Shin Makoku, it appears that in Shin Makoku quite some more time passed than on Earth. There's a difference in the time flow, so with Yuuri coming and going, Wolfram has aged more than Yuuri.

To answer the last part of your question, yes, Demons live longer than Humans.

**shia naru**: Oh, yes, Eldara will have a lot to do with Wolfram's 'bloom'. I'll probably update once a week until I run out of beta-read chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

* * *

><p>Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character. Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram<p>

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them?

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 3

The Duke of Raizgad was sipping his wine leisurely and watching Gwendal von Voltaire carrying his drunken youngest brother into the castle. Maybe he shouldn't have told Gwendal where the blond had nodded off. Leaving him asleep on that bench for the night would have resulted in interesting patterns on the blond's face; mosquitoes were vicious tonight.

The brothers disappeared inside the castle and, sighing, the duke turned his attention back to what was left of the banquet. The mass of people had considerably thinned out. Now, there were about thirty of them left. They had broken into small groups of "very drunk", "shouting and laughing", and "discussing certain topics".

The sky had become dark as well with a star here and there, the air cooling significantly. Yawning and wishing for everyone to finally go to sleep, the servants were following the guests, serving either a glass of wine or a snack.

The duke was keeping an eye on two people farther in the garden. They were the only reason he was not in his bed yet. His sister had struck up a long conversation with someone whom he vaguely knew as Fredrick von Sarda. Despite the appearance that von Sarda seemed to be a gentleman, the duke didn't want to risk leaving them unchaperoned in case von Sarda suddenly decided to introduce Halea to the variety of bushes in the garden.

Finally, the two started walking towards the castle. Trying not to appear too obvious, the duke waited for a few minutes then followed them inside. He found his sister in their room, safe and secure and in a good mood as well. She was getting ready for bed.

"Can you help me undo the corset?"

Eldara looked at his sister, who had turned her back to him expectantly. "Where is your maid?" he asked while mistrustfully eyeing the webby structure of ties on her back.

"I told her she could have the evening free; something disagreed with her stomach."

"I see. Really, one has to get used to what they eat here." The duke cast a look at the window behind his sister. "Alright, just move away from that window. I would not want people to think we are doing something indecent here."

Halea followed his gaze towards the window. The curtains were drawn but their shadows cast by the candles could probably be seen from the outside. She shook her head. "You have the weirdest ideas," she said moving away from the window and walking farther into the room.

"It's not me. It's bystanders who have them," Eldara said, wondering what exactly he should do with the corset ties. Maids were so much better at this. He hoped he would not need to help her to get this torture tool back on in the morning. "What exactly should I…?" he asked, tugging at the ties clumsily.

"Just pull them looser so I can pull it over my head."

It took a few minutes for the duke to loosen the ties while his sister was huffing impatiently at the amount of time he took. Awkwardly, he turned away when Halea started to pull the corset over her head. He started unbuttoning his jacket. He suddenly felt dead tired.

"Fredrick said that Cecilie tried to pick him up as well," Halea said, when she was finally free of the corset. She exhaled in relief. "She seems such a simpleminded bimbo. And to think that she was their Queen…"

Eldara hummed to show that he had heard the comment but wasn't going to express his opinions on it. "Fredrick, huh?" he wondered instead. "So you're already using your first names?"

"He's cute."

"If you want 'cute', get yourself a kitten," the duke said frowning, his irritation rising due to his tiredness. "Yes, just get yourself a cat. No, three of them. That would also take care of your wish to have babies."

Halea scrunched her nose. "You're so…feh." She finally wrestled her puffed dress off and spread it onto one of the free chairs in the room then she picked up her nightshirt.

Eldara's frown deepened. Maybe he really was "_feh_" and maybe he really was overprotective of her just as his brother had said, but he would really prefer her stroking a cat instead of Fredrick's…tail. Eldara suddenly developed a headache.

"Well, I'm going to my corner," Halea pointed at the bed on the opposite side of the room. "I still can't believe they accommodated us in one room."

"You know that it's my fault for not warning them that I'd be bringing you as well."

"Well, yes," Halea agreed with a shrug.

The duke watched her walk over to her bed. He thought that he would be happy if she ever developed as much sense and cunning as Cecilie von Spitzweg. He went to sleep feeling guilty for this thought.

* * *

><p>There was something unsettling in Wolfram's chest. Something was spinning in his head as well. His mouth was full of saliva. Brushing over his forehead with his fingers, Wolfram opened his eyes. It was dark everywhere and he was disoriented, but the scents around told him that it was his own room.<p>

Something clanged loudly and rolled over the floor, clattering, when Wolfram stumbled out of his bed. He cursed loudly, lost his footing and fell backwards, his back meeting the mattress and a piece of hard wood.

In the darkness, varicolored shapes started dancing in front of his eyes. Wolfram cursed again and groped around with his hand for that clanging thing, which his fading common sense had identified as someone's purposely left pail.

* * *

><p>"How long has it been like this?" Gwendal asked.<p>

Wolfram wasn't certain if he was asking him or Gisela. Then, he realized that maybe Gwendal didn't know which one of them to ask because Gisela was busy making a potion and he was half-conscious.

"He said that at the time it was still dark outside," Gisela answered before Wolfram could open his mouth.

Gwendal's head turned to the window involuntary. The curtains were drawn, but the bright light of summer midday was still seeping through. "Why didn't you go looking for Gisela?" he asked with annoyance present in his voice.

Wolfram didn't know what to answer so he didn't. Instead, he turned on his side and retched again.

Gwendal frowned and turned away from the sight of his youngest brother's head hovering over the pail, getting rid of more bile. As far as he had seen, there was nothing else in the pail, only yellow bile. Gwendal rubbed his temples in worrisome irritation.

"How much has he drunk?" he asked.

"He doesn't remember."

"Right," Gwendal grunted out, not surprised at all. He tried to recall the previous night and how many glasses there had been around the bench. "A bottle of wine," he said. "Maybe more."

Spent, Wolfram shifted back into the bed. For now, the swimming in his head had stopped. This was the first time he had gotten so drunk and he thought he had deserved the outcome. He had known perfectly well how this kind of thing ends. Or, maybe, this was the punishment for how he had been maliciously happy about Yuuri's broken arm while watching him flirt with those women. Damn that Yuuri! Damn him, damn everything and damn himself for still holding onto Yuuri! And damn, he was tired.

"I tried giving him medicine, but everything comes back up. This should pass in a few hours, though."

Gwendal watched Wolfram sigh then close his eyes and try to catch a wink of sleep. The blond must be exhausted after the sleepless night. Wolfram rarely drank, he rather tasted; this was the reason for this mess.

"Alright, just tell me if anything changes," Gwendal said.

"Yes, Sir, I will."

**oOoOo_About a week later_oOoOo**

Wolfram watched the last of guests' carriage leave. Finally, finally, the castle was free of outsiders. Maybe one shouldn't call his uncle an outsider but he had never gotten along with the man very well. _Waltorana_ had even stayed for a whole week. Very likely, he had done so to see if there really was no chance of his nephew and the king renewing their relationship. _Waltorana_ hadn't said anything to him about annulling the engagement, but, obviously, he wasn't content with it either: the marriage would have considerably strengthened their position amongst other noble houses.

Wolfram turned away from the window and looked over at Gwendal, who was sitting behind his desk, reading the account for this month he had been delivered by his lieutenant general.

It had taken Wolfram a week to regain his strength. He still didn't feel back to normal. Gisela had explained that this was because his body had lost many minerals and vitamins. He had no idea what vitamins were, but minerals sounded more familiar, even if he wondered how those could have gotten into him – last time he checked he hadn't been eating lumps of copper for breakfast.

The blond marched over to Gwendal's desk. He cleared his throat to get his brother's attention. Gwendal snorted something out to acknowledge his presence but didn't cease studying the account. Wolfram stood still for a few moments then took the chair opposite his brother's desk.

"I know you'll probably be against it," he started. "But I'd like to join one of the squads heading for patrol. I think it's about time I started my military career."

Slowly, Gwendal lowered the account onto the desk. His youngest brother was watching him expectantly. Gwendal pushed the account over the desk in a jerky movement. Anger bubbled inside of him and he opened his mouth to tell Wolfram that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, but then he closed it as he gave this some more thought. Alright, he knew that Wolfram was doing this only to run way from Yuuri. Yes, Wolfram didn't have much experience in military service and he would find it very hard to obey someone else's orders. And, true enough, it was dangerous as well. However, there was more to this: it was certain that, for the time being, Wolfram really needed to stay away from Yuuri; Wolfram was in need of half a year of military experience; it would be better if Wolfram went on patrol now, while it was still summer instead of late autumn or winter when it was easy to catch pneumonia or other diseases; the experience would be good for Wolfram, too. But the main point was that now, while Wolfram was still sharing his plans with him, he could continue to guide and advise. There was no way to guarantee that Wolfram wouldn't just take off without telling anything to anyone. And maybe, just maybe, Wolfram would get bored to death with the patrol and would come back in a week or two.

"Alright, no problem with that. So, where do you want to go?" Wolfram was staring at him. His brother's astonishment was so obvious that Gwendal had to suppress his laughter. "Where to?" Gwendal repeated.

Wolfram stuttered out something incomprehensible and Gwendal quickly realized that his brother had not thought about it that far. Very likely, he had only readied himself to fight for his wish one step at a time, the first one being the need to get him to warm up to the idea of him going away. Now, Wolfram was fervently trying to figure out where the catch was.

Gwendal was confident that Wolfram would soon make the appropriate conclusions. He doubted Wolfram was going to be very happy with them.

"Shall I just randomly point with my finger on the map?" Gwendal asked sarcastically, as the blond was still silent, calculating. Gwendal opened one of his drawers and retrieved a rolled up map. He unrolled and straightened it on his desk. "Hmm…"

"Here," Wolfram's finger shot out unexpectedly, thumping against the paper.

Gwendal inspected Wolfram's finger then, when his brother removed it, concentrated on the place it had pointed. Lesa. He resisted the urge to grin. Wolfram must have pointed randomly, just to regain his balance and make sure he was the one to decide instead of Gwendal. The best thing about this was that Wolfram would rather die than admit that.

"Splendid, private von Bielefeld!" Gwendal said. "I'll send over a message saying you'll be arriving… Let's say in two weeks' time?"

Frowning mistrustfully, Wolfram checked the place his finger had been on a moment ago. He cursed loudly in his head, realizing where he had pointed. True, the fort was far away from the capital, just as he had wished, but nothing, absolutely nothing ever happened on that frontier. The neighboring Kingdom of Kardera wasn't their ally, but it wasn't their enemy, either. They didn't even have any trade contracts with it. It just stayed there, on the other side of the sea, like a large piece of rock, unmovable and useless.

Wolfram looked disappointed and angry with himself but this didn't bother Gwendal in the slightest. "There's no need to be so upset. It's only for six months unless you decide otherwise," he said meaningfully. Then, he could not help teasing Wolfram: "I heard that the scenery is beautiful there and that there are a few good fishing spots; be sure to vary your ration when you're off duty."

If Wolfram's glare could turn physical, it would have burned a hole in the map. But in a few moments his anger dissipated. One way or another, he had reached his objective – he was getting away from Yuuri.

**oOoOo_Four days later_oOoOo**

Yuuri watched the squad of assembled soldiers move out of the yard. They belonged to different Shin Makoku lands and he couldn't even see Wolfram in the middle of varicolored uniforms. Ah, there he was – now he could see the blond head protruding over someone's shoulder. The blond was too far for him to see whether he was happy to go or upset. Soon, he was swallowed by the uniforms again.

The king's eyes saw the backs of the men exit the gate. Then, he returned to his desk and took his chair. Thinking, he lowered his hand onto the desk and, habitually, wanted to cross his fingers. Then, he remembered that his left arm was still in a sling. With his good hand, he prodded the ballpoint pen that was lying on the desk next to the documents he had been reading about ten minutes ago. He liked the luxury of his ink-free hands.

"This is my fault, isn't it?" he stated, without raising his eyes off the pen.

Conrart's face acquired a painful expression. "No, of course not, Your Majesty." He hesitated for a few moments then gave his king a tentative smile. "It's just that Wolfram needs some time to sort his thoughts out."

Yuuri rolled the pen over the surface of his desk. "He can perfectly well sort them out here. He doesn't need to go to another side of the country for that."

Conrart's smile became strained. "Well, Your Majesty, I would presume it's still somewhat painful for him."

Now Yuuri's thumb was clicking the pen on and off rather aggressively.

"Your Majesty," Conrart tried cautiously, "surely you knew that the termination of the engagement would affect your relationship?"

"Of course, I knew," Yuuri said with indignation. "But I had hoped that somehow…" he fell silent, the pen stopping its incessant clicking as well. "That somehow it wouldn't come to this," he finished. "He rarely ever seemed affected any other time when I would…" he trailed off again.

"…not accept his attention?" Conrart offered.

Yuuri understood that his godfather was good at pretending to be nonchalant about this. Now he could tell that deep down Conrart was getting angry with him. Conrart was right – what was the point of fussing over it now when it was already over? This conversation made no sense. If Wolfram had decided that he didn't want to see his face for awhile then let it be so. As long as it helped Wolfram…to forget, it was fine.

Yuuri's thumb started torturing the pen again. Probably this was where the problem lay – he didn't want to be forgotten. There was nothing fine about Wolfram forgetting him.

Yuuri stared at the sheet of paper before his eyes. "I'd like to be informed how he's getting on there."

"Probably he will be reporting directly to the general, Your Majesty."

Yuuri frowned. Gwendal was partly blaming him for what had happened with Wolfram. This meant that whenever asked about how Wolfram was doing, Gwendal would answer a short, clipped "fine." "Fine" wasn't informative at all. It would just mean that Wolfram wasn't dead yet.

"I'll try to talk to him, Your Majesty," Conrart said, seeing the expression on Yuuri's face.

Yuuri let go of the pen and lowered it to the desk. He doubted it would work. The relationship between Wolfram and Gwendal was a strange combination of brotherly-parental affection. Gwendal was the one Wolfram would always turn to for advice. Gwendal was also the one who taught Wolfram everything he knew. And Gwendal was also the one who had the most authority in the house – his word was final.

And because Gwendal's word was final, it didn't matter that the rest of the house didn't agree with Wolfram's idea to just piss off to the "back of beyond" to mend his broken heart. Yuuri had seen Gwendal and Conrart arguing, but it was to no avail. Wolfram had decided, Gwendal gave his blessing, and nothing else mattered.

Keeping in mind that Gwendal was very protective of Wolfram, this had come as a complete surprise. But when Yuuri thought deeper about it, maybe it shouldn't have been such a big surprise after all. Gwendal simply wanted to make sure that Wolfram recovered as fast as possible and that the place where Wolfram had chosen to go to was relatively benign. But still…

Yuuri glanced at Conrart, who seemed to have fallen into the depths of his own thoughts. Somehow, he instinctively knew that Conrart had wanted a different relationship with Wolfram, similar to what Gwendal and Wolfram had together. Yuuri had seen how he watched the two interact. Conrart always smiled, but sometimes there was something bitter in that smile.

Yuuri suspected that this went even deeper. Conrart was his godfather, but he could tell that, sometimes, there was something strange about the way Conrart was babying him. It was very likely that Conrart's unfulfilled expectations were manifesting in their relationship. Wolfram and he had been about the same age when he first met Conrart. Conrart was giving Yuuri what Wolfram didn't want. And now Yuuri was receiving twice the affection.

From Conrart, Yuuri averted his eyes back to his desk and to the pen. He took it in his hand. If nothing else, he could at least be allowed to break a pen in protest of Wolfram's departure.

* * *

><p>Wolfram jolted out of his slumber as he felt himself starting to slide sideways. He righted himself on his horse again. It wasn't Kerda – he had left Kerda at home and was issued a horse from the army. The sun was setting slowly and the horse, having to carry him and a few packs with food, a tent and clothes, was growing tired.<p>

Wolfram yawned and looked around. The expressions on the other soldiers' faces suggested that his horse was not the only one tired. Keeping in mind that recently Wolfram hadn't been riding for long periods of time, he was handling the beginning of the journey far better than a handful of other soldiers. However, he was also beginning to feel that his thighs and backside were starting to lead independent lives of their own.

Wolfram was relieved when the sergeant had finally decided that the meadow they were crossing was as good as any other place and gave the order to make camp. Soon, they were done with the task, took care of their horses, and ate dinner around the fire.

Wolfram noticed that the other soldiers were staying away from him. He had expected a similar reaction – he was nobility after all. He doubted they were happy that he was going to spend half a year together with them. Most of them would probably opt out of such a privilege if given a choice. They didn't have a choice, however. Neither did he. If he wanted to advance any further, he had to serve six months in the army.

Six months of duty was the requirement for the men who wanted to pass the examination to receive a promotion from a private and then advance further up the chain of command. Wolfram had confidence that it was within his limits to pass all the required tests right up to the captain's position. He wasn't as certain about the higher ranks – he didn't know how he would deal with practical battle simulations where he would have to command thousands of men and come up with strategies of overwhelming the enemy be it on land or the sea.

In fact, Wolfram hadn't thought much about this after finishing the Military Academy in the von Christ lands. He had considered it but then came the unrest with the neighboring countries. And, after that, Yuuri showed up and Wolfram simply had no time. Later, he hadn't given a thought about getting a military rank either. He had soldiers from the von Bielefeld lands at his beck and call any time he wished. However, while he was the one to say where and what he wanted them to do, there was always someone else telling them _how _to do it. He had the inborn right to exercise his power over them but not the rank.

Six months. From across the fire that had been made to warm some tea, Wolfram looked at the twenty men sitting near it. There were a lot of young privates just like him. The border with Kardera was probably the best starting point for all privates. Not counting a few reports of rabid animals, it was relatively calm and peaceful.

There were a few older soldiers as well, but they were in the minority. From their relaxed postures and attitudes, Wolfram could tell that serving was going to be a breeze. He hoped that, with time, the other soldiers would warm up to him as well. Half a year was a long time and it was best to maintain friendly relationships. He wasn't a person who constantly required social contact, but he didn't want to feel like an outsider either. Nobody wanted that.

Wolfram slapped a mosquito on the back of his neck. He grimaced at the sticky feeling between his fingers; the insect had been pumped with blood already. He wiped his hand on the grass. The men were already drifting off to their tents. Wolfram looked at the three soldiers he was going to share his tent with. One of them stood up and walked to the bushes a bit farther from the fireplace. A soft sigh and a trickle of passing water could be heard. Wolfram grimaced again – oh, the pleasures of nature.

The blond knew that he was somewhat spoiled. And he could guess that people suspected this and that this was going to be one of the reasons why other soldiers were going to stay away from him. He understood as well that most of these young men grew up in packed houses sharing their beds with their brothers and sisters, working in the fields until dusk. There was no time for them to become well-mannered. Being well-mannered didn't put food on their table.

Once the man was done, not wanting to get caught into a mass of other soldiers doing their personal business, Wolfram was first to walk over to the bushes. He chose a much farther spot from the fire but still, while unbuttoning his trousers, he could hear hushed voices behind him. This was annoying. He had better start looking for friends and fast, while firm groups hadn't formed yet.

The rest of the week's trek to the fort was spent just like this – traveling by day and resting at night. The squad also happened to ride into a storm and the last day of the journey was spent in rain. By the time the squad reached the destined fort in the village of Lesa, despite their trench coats, they were drenched to the skin, shivering with cold, and nearly falling off their saddles from fatigue.

They were led into the barracks and shown around. Later, they were assigned their bunks and linens, and the newcomers were informed that they were expected to come to tomorrow's meeting where they would be briefed on their duties. After that, they had dinner and were left to do whatever they wanted.

The white sheet of rain falling on blurred shapes was all Wolfram could see through the windows. The village was silent in the murky weather. He doubted he would go sightseeing even if he could. He was too tired for that. He was just glad they had finally reached the fort. If they were going to have some free time tomorrow, he thought of going exploring with one or two of the lads he had befriended during the journey.

Tbc


	4. Part 4

**Narudi18**: Well, pining for five years for a person who hasn't as much as ever given Wolfram hope is too much. Wolfram had to sooner or later realize he had to move on. It took him a long time, but better later than never as we know.

Thanks for heads up :)

**Tenshi no Nanimo**: I'm glad to see you so excited :) Yuuri indeed will have many revelations in Wolfram's absence, but he'll actually have many more when Wolfram eventually returns. Wolfram will have his own share of experiences, though. I may say Eldara will have a lot to do with those experiences ;)

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.<p>

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: The tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 4

After spending the night in a room with six other men, Wolfram went to have breakfast and then to a briefing. It was held in a room which was hardly big enough for the present forty people. For some reason, it reeked of alcohol there. The wooden floor and the benches were strewn with darkened stains. The floor was dusty and the three small windows were curtained with cobwebs and dried flies.

First, the newcomers were introduced to their officers and to the old hands at the fort. They were also informed that they were exchanging fifteen men who now were going back to their lands or to other posts. In three weeks' time, when the newcomers gained some more experience and got used to their surroundings, five additional men were going to leave; the number of soldiers in the fort was usually fixed and amounted to a total of seventy-five men.

The briefing and introductions lasted for about thirty minutes then the rookies were paired up with old hands, given their schedules, and dismissed.

Wolfram looked at the sergeant who had declared himself to be his partner. As with all Demons, it was hard to tell his age, but it was obvious to Wolfram that the sergeant was older than him by at least ten years. His broad face had a healthy tan and he wore his bluish hair short. A few undone buttons at the top of his shirt revealed more of the tan and a tuft of dark blue chest hair. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled up to his elbows and he seemed to be a practical man.

"Tyari Meron," the man said, holding out his hand.

"Err, yes, sir," Wolfram said, shaking his hand. Tyari's grip was firm. "Wolfram von Bielefeld. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," answered the sergeant, letting go of Wolfram's hand. "Alright, let's go to the western turret. I'll show you around on the way there."

Together with the other men, Wolfram and Tyari filed out into the corridor. Wolfram followed the sergeant outside into the yard then they separated from the other men and started walking west. Although the mud on the ground had dried, there were still a few large puddles and the day was turning out to be just as the rest of them – sweltering with heat; so far this summer had been extremely hot and humid. Wolfram hoped that at least by the sea it was going to be a little cooler.

While walking across the yard, Wolfram noticed about ten men on the walls. Most of them had crossbows slung over their backs. They were sleepily walking along the landings.

The fort wasn't big at all. Add to the fact, the walls were wooden with four large turrets. Wolfram was of the impression that if under attack, it would be more time consuming trying to put out the burning pine balk walls than taking up arms against the enemy. This was an old fort, and he could see the patches of lighter wood where the walls had been repaired over and over.

"Which element do you wield?"

Wolfram averted his eyes from the walls and looked at the sergeant. He quickened his pace after realizing he was lagging a few steps behind Tyari.

"Fire, sir."

The sergeant met the blond's eyes. "We usually don't have many fire-wielders. Most of the soldiers here wield water."

Wolfram nodded. He was a little surprised at how direct the sergeant was being but decided not to show it. "Yes, it's understandable, sir; Lesa in on a coast, and the fort is wooden. I was surprised we still had any wooden forts left, sir."

The sergeant gave Wolfram another appreciative look. The blond interpreted it as a silent question as to why he had chosen Lesa if he had known all that. Wolfram blushed lightly and decided not to answer.

Seeing that the blond had become a little uncomfortable, Tyari motioned with his hand at the wooden walls. "Actually, a new one is going to be erected in a few years' time and this one will be torn down. The works on the foundations are going to be started in a few months."

"Will it be built instead of this one, sir?"

"No. I'll show you the intended place once we are on the turret."

They reached the western turret's stairs and climbed up. From the landing, Wolfram looked around. In front of him, westward, was the sea. The water was blue and the waves were small, moving lazily in windless weather. It was still about a half kilometer walk to the coast itself. About ten tiny houses were strewn further along the coast. There was a pier trailing off into the sea. Around it, Wolfram could just make out a few dots which he guessed were fishing boats.

Lesa had a port but it was of so little importance that no one ever mentioned it. The villagers fished, sowed their infertile fields, raised cattle, and hunted in the nearby woods. It didn't trade by sea. There had been a few merchants who had tried the sea route but they had been deterred by the storms, the lack of customers, and Kardera's patrolling fleet, which constantly checked the goods before letting the merchants pass.

Wolfram turned east where he could see the rest of the village. About twenty houses. Most of them were painted yellow – must be the current fashion in the village. He could see a few soldiers riding along the roads. There was also a horse pulling a cart with hay. It was slowly advancing along the road. A villager was sitting on the top of the heap and a few pitchforks were stuck in the hay.

"There."

Wolfram turned to look in the direction the sergeant was pointing. It was a hill on their left, closer to the pier. He wondered if it came into Shin Makoku's plans to start building a navy fleet here in Lesa. Very likely not. There must be much more appropriate places for that.

Wolfram looked down at the fort. Surrounded by thick wooden walls, there was the building of barracks, the kitchen and the canteen, the stables, and a warehouse. Wolfram had already seen the most of the fort yesterday while getting his linens and then dining later.

Wolfram's eyes returned to the sergeant.

"You stay here until six o'clock," the sergeant answered to the blond's questioning eyes. He observed Wolfram's bare head. "First go to the warehouse and get yourself a cap and then something for lunch. At six o'clock's the changing of the guard. You'll be free for the day after that."

"Yes, sir," Wolfram nodded, saluting. He started climbing downstairs.

While heading into the warehouse, Wolfram wondered if there had been no one else wanting to pair up with him. He was curious whether or not the sergeant had volunteered or if he had been forced to pair up with him after no one else undertook the task. Tyari, as a sergeant, obviously had his own duties to take care of, and patrolling on a turret for an entire day wasn't included in them. Well, one way or another, this wasn't for long, just for three weeks, until the rookies got used to life at the fort.

* * *

><p>Day to day life at the fort, which was different from what Wolfram had believed, was a rough adjustment. The first week was quite difficult for him because he wasn't used to sleeping with so many men in one room. True, he had taken part in a few trips and sorties but he usually had his own tent which he would pitch up further from everyone else's. During the times he had needed to sleep in one space with other men, he slept poorly, but that was fixed once he returned home to his tent or stayed in an inn. However, here he had to simply endure.<p>

Another thing was the food. Most of it was obtained from the village. It was varied and nourishing, including: fish, poultry, vegetables, flour, beef, pork, and lamb. The problem was that Wolfram had difficulties getting used to the meals they were turned into. There were quite a few dishes specific only to this part of the country. Sometimes, the cooks showed their skill in offering meals from other lands or even other countries. Still, Wolfram found this torturous; he had always had a sensitive stomach.

He also couldn't appreciate the inn his friends had shown him in the village. It was an old, rundown building. The first time Wolfram visited it, the owner managed to find a forgotten bottle of old wine in his cellar, but there was nothing else to delight Wolfram's mouth during his next visits. He hated the beer the soldiers were drinking with absolute bliss on their faces. He hated the rum even more. During the next two months, he gained quite a reputation while drinking nothing else but tea and water.

He had made friends with two rookies and there was the sergeant, who he still talked to even after the trial period of three weeks had been over. He and his friends hung out after their patrol or watch hours around in the barracks, the seashore or the village. There weren't very many things one could do at the fort. Everybody played cards and flirted with the girls (sometimes lads) from the village. Not that they ever allowed themselves to be picked up; they flirted back but it was strictly for sport. Wolfram had also tried to fish from the pier but realized that he preferred swimming. Soldiers also went mushrooming or gather berries but only the villagers knew best places for that. There was also a lake five kilometers away from the village and Wolfram liked it better than the salty water of the sea.

Overall, the villagers had a strange approach to the fort and the soldiers in general. During the first month of his service, Wolfram had received orders to find and retrieve a cow which had broken loose from its chain, then to get a cat out of a pine tree, and help weed a field of potatoes for a granny whose hardworking son had recently died of a stroke. The villagers would also run for the fort if rain caught them by surprise half-way home. Sometimes, Wolfram felt that he belonged to the "Association of Good Samaritans". From time to time, though, the villagers offered the soldiers small tokens of free milk, carrots, potatoes, and meat.

The first letter he wrote to Gwendal was to inform him that he had arrived and settled in. The second one was about his noble achievements in the village and a disruptive hole in his sock. Gwendal's reply, which Wolfram received five days later, included a package of a few needles and some darning thread. Gwendal also wrote to him that not everyone had to slay a dragon to get promoted and advised him to be patient and take pleasure in little joys. Wolfram read this letter just after he had stepped into one of the little joys a flock of chickens had left in the fort.

The correspondence was delivered by winged skeletons, which flew back and forth over Shin Makoku's lands without getting tired. In comparison to Human lands, the post system in Shin Makoku was more advanced and the skeletons reached the destination faster than commonly used pigeons or postmen on horses.

Gwendal's letters informed him about what was happening at home and about the latest events in the country. His letters were not the only ones Wolfram was waiting for. However, Yuuri never sent one. Eventually, two months had passed and there was no sight of it. Wolfram was angry, but mostly he was angry with himself for even waiting for it.

With time, standing watch for hours and hours became easier. He also became quite skilled with a crossbow. However, there was another thing Wolfram hadn't taken into the account – patrolling and standing watch left plenty of time to think. And the thoughts that found way into his head were not always pleasant.

He was thinking a lot about Yuuri and what happened between them. He was glad he had found strength in himself to dissolve that fruitless engagement. However, being glad about it did nothing to his longing for Yuuri. People frequently said that there was always plenty of fish in the sea but it was hard to convince himself of this when the only fish he wanted was Yuuri.

Mostly, dark thoughts would come to him when he stood watch at night, alone in his existence, only burning torches farther down the walls reminding him of other people. Sometimes, he would submerge into self-pity so deep that he wanted to cry. He hated himself for this weakness.

Wolfram sometimes wondered if Yuuri had thought of him as a joke. No, not him, but rather his feelings and the whole idea of a man having a relationship with another man. Both of them had been raised in completely different environments. It had been so unfortunate for him to fall in love with a foreigner.

Now and then, there were times when he would realize that he couldn't even begin to understand what Yuuri's thoughts were on the subject. It, somehow, felt slippery. Yuuri didn't seem to abhor the idea itself but anything beyond that made him awkward, skittish, timid, or even angry. He didn't want to have anything to do with it and rather treated it as a contagious disease. Maybe, that was exactly what it looked like to Yuuri.

Their characters were very different as well, they also had different interests and the gap had only been increasing with Yuuri constantly absent. He had been getting older faster than Yuuri and, naturally, had wanted something substantial from him. Were he a woman, would Yuuri have answered his feelings? Now Wolfram doubted that.

His musings at the fort had brought him a revelation in a month: Yuuri was an admirer. He liked to watch pretty people but rarely got involved. He flirted but never got serious. It was very likely that Yuuri had never been in love with anyone and didn't even want to be. He probably didn't even understand what it felt like to be in love with someone. And, now that he was thinking about it, Wolfram suspected that he was the one who had made love seem such an unwanted and complicated matter to Yuuri.

Wolfram found this humorous, but mostly the "bitter" kind. This led him to thinking that if he had somehow gone about it differently, he might have had a chance. This, in return, brought more regret and pain than it helped.

He wished he could just cross Yuuri out of his memory. No, rather to tear a page off the calendar that said: "_A day of falling in love with Yuuri._" He didn't want to forget Yuuri, not really. He simply didn't want to feel pain every time he thought about him. This was going to come, of course, with time. The pain would subside, then disappear, and then one day the only thing left from it at all would be a melancholic nostalgia. For now, though, Yuuri persecuted him in his thoughts, people's mouths, news bulletins, and his wet dreams.

* * *

><p>It was seven o'clock in the evening when Wolfram, together with another soldier, rode out on his usual patrol. They had to patrol the north sector of the fort, along the coast, a distance of about seven kilometers. There was usually not a living soul when the sun would set. The villagers were hard-working people and went to sleep early so that they could start the new day with vigor. At night, all Wolfram could hear were wolves howling, nightingales singing, and toads croaking. Farther in the distance, he would spot an occasional deer or a few fireflies.<p>

It had been an overcast day, and the evening was getting even worse. The air was cool as well. The thick fog was rising from the sea and coiling around, covering the land. It wasn't raining yet, which Wolfram thought was fortunate. Patrolling in the rain was not his favorite pastime.

Riding alongside the coast, the two of them spent their time talking about horses and life at the fort. Wolfram didn't particularly like Derek but maintaining an easygoing conversation was much better than staying quiet. All the time they were talking, the fog was creeping out from the sea, thickening. It was getting dark as well and soon it was hard to see anything at all.

Around midnight, Wolfram and Derek's conversation started drying up and soon they just quietly rode side to side, trying to see what was in front of them. Wolfram felt sleepy; his thoughts that this patrolling wasn't very useful did nothing to dissipate his lethargy. It had gotten cold and he wrapped himself tighter into his trench coat.

"Hey, there!"

The alarm in Derek's voice made Wolfram's head shoot up and follow his hand which was pointing towards the sea. In the distance, there were a few glowing circles afloat in the fog. The glow did not pierce the air but rather seemed like small oases of light. At first, Wolfram stared at them, not understanding, then it dawned on him.

"A ship."

Derek nodded.

"Whose?"

"Probably just one of Kardera's patrolling ships. It must have wandered off course in this fog."

Wolfram watched the softly moving lights amidst the fog. Derek was probably right. Wolfram wondered what they should do now.

"I suppose, we should tell them to clear off," Derek suggested. "They are in Shin Makoku's territory."

Wolfram measured the distance from the shore to the ship. It was hard to tell with the fog but the ship seemed to be far away. "Well, you're welcome to take a swim," he said. "Besides, I don't think they would understand what you're saying."

"They must have someone on board who understands at least one of Shin Makoku's dialects."

Wolfram shrugged. He watched the ship indecisively.

"We still have to somehow clear this," Derek said, turning his horse forward and cupping his hands around his mouth.

Wolfram urged his horse closer to him. "Stop it," he hissed smacking at Derek's hands. "We don't know for sure if those are Karderians."

"Who else can it be?" Derek snorted and Wolfram felt that if he weren't a von Bielefeld, Derek would have smacked him back.

"Anyone with a ship; we can't see anything in this f-"

At the sound of an arrow whipping past, Wolfram flung himself off the horse and to the ground. Derek, with an arrow protruding from his chest, hit the sand a few seconds later. The whipping sound repeated. Wolfram's horse neighed painfully and reared. The blond yelped and jerked backward, rolling out of the way so as not to be trampled on. The horse bolted suddenly and Derek's horse followed it, dragging Derek's body after it, with his foot caught in the stirrup.

"Get them!"

"The horses! The horses!"

Wolfram pushed himself off the sand and started running away from the voices. As long as he kept his distance, they would be not able to see him and then he would have time to come up with something. Shouts and footsteps behind him indicated that he was being chased. His trench coat flapping, Wolfram ran in the direction of the wood which he knew was supposed to be somewhere on his left.

Farther off the coast, the fog wasn't as thick but, even if he could finally see where he was running, whoever was chasing him could also see him. Wolfram felt naked, and, regardless, he had to cross the distance as soon as he could.

Panting, he ran into the wood. After having run among trees in the dark for about two hundred meters, he stopped. If his persecutors weren't Demons as well, he had a better chance with his superior vision. But, even then, he had had a hard time avoiding running into trees.

Suffocating in the thick air, Wolfram leaned his back against a tree and slid down to the ground. Through the blood pounding in his ears, he could vaguely hear voices. He swallowed loudly and panted further while trying to catch his breath. Thoughts were shooting across his mind like burning arrows: _Derek dead; alone; horses away; many men; who?; the ship; had to warn; alone; too far; wh-_

A twig snapped somewhere behind him and Wolfram jumped to his feet, whirling around. A branch that collided with Wolfram's forehead tossed him backwards into the moss where he dropped unconscious.

"It's good to have an earth-wielder around," the man who had hit Wolfram said, tossing the branch aside.

The second man, to whom the words were directed, agreed with a grin, "Yeah, you certainly wouldn't have found him without me." He started fiddling with the lantern in his hand and soon the light twinkled inside. Then, he drew his sword and moved toward Wolfram, intending to finish him off.

"What?" the other man asked as, instead of skewering the unconscious man, the tip of his comrade's blade ran over his chest hesitantly.

"Look at the ring on his right hand; he might be of some use."

The man came closer and took a look at Wolfram's hand. He leaned down and grasped the blond's fingers to pull the signet ring off. "_WB_," he muttered, after taking a closer look at the initials on the ring in the lantern's shadowy light. "Clearly some nob." Putting the ring into his pocket, he peered at Wolfram's face more closely. "Very pretty."

"Indeed." The earth-wielder sheathed his sword slowly. "Let's take him to the captain. Maybe he will want to ransom; his folks must be loaded with money."

"Yeah," the other man agreed. He took another look at the blond's face, calculating. "The captain might want to keep him, though," he said. "Or sell, maybe." He watched his comrade tie the blond's hands. Then, he turned around to look behind himself. "Let's retrace our steps – I want to look for my sword. It was a good one."

"Forget it. It's too dark; you won't find it."

"I lost it when we were rolling down that slope."

"Alright, let's go, but you will be the one to carry the lad."

* * *

><p>Wolfram's ears were registering soft thumping sounds but there was no telling what they were. His eyelids fluttered open. Absolutely disoriented, he stared with blurry eyes in front of him. Something was whirring in his head and it was throbbing with excruciating pain. He whimpered and closed his eyes again, letting his muddled mind drift away.<p>

His sense of time was warped as well. When Wolfram opened his eyes again, he wasn't certain whether it had been hours or seconds since the last time he had closed them. The throbbing in his head hadn't subsided, either. Swallowing loudly, he tried to orient himself in his surroundings.

He found himself staring at a wooden ceiling. He could feel that he was lying on something equally hard. Slowly, Wolfram's head turned to look around the space surrounding him. A lantern was burning farther on a table. Its feeble light hardly illuminated the area, leaving Wolfram to instinctively guess what the shadows were hiding. Wolfram closed his eyes again as his efforts brought him a spell of dizziness. His stomach bubbled and he swallowed the saliva that had flooded his mouth suddenly. Something wasn't right. Through the confusing mist and pounding pain that veiled his mind, he couldn't grasp what it was, but there was something wrong.

His stomach suddenly decided that it wanted out and Wolfram turned sideways. While doing so, he found that his hands and feet were bound. Despite this, he managed to turn on his side.

"What the?"

Retching, Wolfram caught movement at the table. The shadows stirred and grew taller, turning into figures of three grown men. Someone let out a sound filled with disgust.

"Fuck!"

One of the men kicked Wolfram in the back and he toppled forward into his own vomit. That resulted in another bout of retching. Wolfram's head throbbed madly and his consciousness started slipping again. The last thing he felt was someone pulling him by his clothes, returning his body into the position on his side again.

"Make sure he doesn't choke."

Tbc


	5. Part 5

**Belldandy55555** & **alguien22792**: Yep, poor Wolfram. For some reason I have always liked torturing him :P

**Raywolf Shibelt**: Wolfram will be just fine. Well, eventually :)

**Alicia Spinet**: Yuuri won't find out what happened so fast. Wolfram will have to deal with the problem on his own for now. I'm glad to see you so excited but could you, please, refrain from copy/pasting this "MORE PLEASE!" hundreds of times? It's space-consuming and doesn't look good. Thank you in advance.

xxxxxxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them?

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: The tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 5

When Wolfram came to the next time, it was completely dark around him. Even though he couldn't see anything, this time his mind was much clearer. His head still hurt and he was dizzy, but it didn't hinder him from remembering the three men who hadn't been exactly friendly with him. His hands and feet were still bound and he could hardly feel them at all. Wolfram could tell that he was in the same exact place he was before losing his consciousness: he was still lying on the same hard, wooden floor and there had to be a table somewhere farther off. He could hear soft voices coming from somewhere far away. But, in the room, he didn't hear any sounds of breathing, indicating a guard. However, he didn't give into the temptation to think that he was alone, either – his ears were buzzing with what he knew was only in his head.

He moved his hands and feet, but his numb limbs hardly listened to him. The ropes didn't even budge. He tried to call on his fire element, but the only reward for his efforts was a pang of excruciating pain behind his eyes. He moaned and lay still for a few moments, waiting for the feeling to subside.

There was not even a tiny source of light. It also reeked of vomit. A few minutes later, Wolfram also became aware of the gentle continuous creaking. There was also a soft sway as if…

A ship.

He was on board a ship! A flash of panic shot through Wolfram. He instinctively hated ships. To be on one against his will and to be taken gods knew where was abominable. It also meant he could not escape – most likely, there was only water where the eye could see. He also didn't know who these men were. From the last time he had woken up, he could remember that he heard them speak one of Shin Makoku dialects and then there was also another language he hadn't understood.

What if war broke out and they really were Karderians just like Derek had said? Possible? Yes, but Wolfram's mind could only wrap around the presumption with difficulty. Kardera was much smaller than Shin Makoku. It had quite large military forces, though, including a grand navy. Kardera's foreign policy wasn't aggressive but it frequently clashed with one or two of its neighbors. It was mostly due to the fact that Kardera was rich in minerals and there were many who wanted to lay their hands on them.

Kardera had also many allies. That and its navy were the main reasons a lot of countries tiptoed around Kardera. Kardera had a grand armada. Shin Makoku had a lot of fishing boats. If Kardera decided to use its navy, Shin Makoku would be blocked from the outside world in an instant. Throughout history, there had been a few wars between the two countries, but they had been waged because of obligation to their allies. Otherwise, Kardera and Shin Makoku didn't care much about each other's existence. Shin Makoku had its own natural resources. Frequently, Shin Makoku had trouble with dealing with rebels in its own territory as well as beating off Human attacks from other countries. Kardera was frequently busy with waging war with its other neighbors, earning capital from exports, and lending the strength of its navy to its allies.

If war had really started… No, Wolfram didn't even want to think about it. In fact, he hoped that the ship didn't belong to Kardera at all.

Slowly, Wolfram pushed himself off the floor and into a kneeling position. Changing his position into one where his head was higher that the rest of his body brought him another spell of dizziness. He had to support himself with his bound hands so as not to fall over.

Tugging at his bonds with his teeth did nothing. Trying to untie his feet was even more impossible as his numb fingers didn't listen to him. Giving up on that thought, Wolfram got on all fours and moved carefully through the dark room towards the table he knew was there. He scrambled onto the bench and started groping around on the table. He shrank back as his hands sent something tumbling off the table and onto the wooden floor. Wolfram waited for a handful of seconds while listening carefully, but it was quiet and he continued searching. He grimaced as his hands sank into something cold, wet, and squishy. Porridge, maybe?

He didn't find anything he could cut the ropes with but found the lantern he had been looking for. It was on the very edge of the table, and the matches were lying right next to it. Trying to strike a light with his hands bound appeared to be an even more difficult task than trying to untie his bonds. He couldn't keep hold of a tiny match and the matchbox simply kept dropping from his numb fingers.

Frustrated and anxious with the amount of time it was taking him, Wolfram tried to call on his fire element again. This time, the pain was so sharp that Wolfram's whole body jerked and shrank into itself, the spasm making him slam his forehead against the table.

In a few seconds, the pain stated retreating and the colorful dots in Wolfram's eyes began to disappear. He stayed absolutely still, panting for air, with his forehead pressed to the table. Once he could breathe normally, he continued trying to strike a match. When he finally succeeded, he was ready to kiss the matchbox.

Wolfram looked around. It was a cabin. He could see five hammocks arranged at the walls. The door was on his right. Wolfram slid off the bench and crawled over to it. Supporting himself against it, he stood up and pressed on the handle. The door creaked open. There was a small corridor behind it with four other doors. At the end of the corridor, there was a staircase with tiny specks of light coming down from somewhere above.

Hopping was out of the question as even the tiniest jolt sent a spark of searing pain through his brain. Crawling along the wall, he reached the stairs and then started making slow progress upwards. There was a hatch at the top of the stairs. Gently, Wolfram pressed at it with his hands to lift it a fraction. The light momentarily blinded him.

When he could see again, he suddenly became aware of a pair of boots walking towards him. His peripheral vision hindered him to see who it was. But no matter who it was, Wolfram didn't want to be seen and slid downstairs. He was too slow, though, and for a few seconds he and the man, who now was on the stairs, were staring at each other. Then, the man moved forward to grab Wolfram.

The blond hung onto the railing and slid sideways, at the same time shouldering the incomer as hard as he could. The man's legs intertwined and he started tumbling downstairs, but at the last minute, he managed to take hold of the railing and balance himself. He turned around, his eyes snapping at Wolfram with rage. What he had least expected was the blond bearing down on his chest with his bound feet.

Panting, his head throbbing madly, Wolfram stared at the man downstairs. The hatch was still open and he could see a sword at the man's side. The man was twitching lightly. He was going to come round soon.

Wolfram unclasped his fingers off the railing and slid towards the man. He pulled the sword halfway out of its sheath and ground the rope against it. A shadow fell over him and Wolfram raised his head to see a silhouette at the top of the stairs. Wolfram's hands were free now and he drew the sword all the way. He started working on the rope around his ankles.

"Oh, awake."

Wolfram did not have the luxury of lifting his eyes again in case he cut his legs: the blade was sharp and his fingers were shaky. Once the rope was off, he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

The man who had been watching Wolfram's progress drew his sword as well. With interest, he waited for the blond's next action. It was obvious that the blond was having trouble with keeping himself upright.

"Captain?"

Wolfram squinted upwards against the light to see a man approach the one on the stairs. He saw the second man peer past his captain's shoulder down at him. After seeing the blond, he said something in a language Wolfram didn't understand.

"Come up here," the captain motioned for Wolfram. "Drop the sword and we won't harm you. It's pointless to resist anyway. There're a few dozens of my men on the deck and we are in the open sea."

"I'd be very much obliged, sir, if I were allowed to keep it," Wolfram said. "Strictly for self-defense, of course."

The captain laughed. Wolfram saw him look around as if gauging what his men thought of this. Then, he shrugged. "Very well. But one wrong move and you will find one or two limbs of yours missing."

Wolfram nodded slowly. He didn't want to leave the narrow corridor where he had at least some chance of defending himself but if what the captain was telling was true, there was no point in holding his position here. Barricading himself here would only bring a slow death from thirst and hunger.

With his sword at the ready, Wolfram dragged himself upstairs. He blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the bright light. The captain hadn't lied – there were over twenty men on the upper deck. All of them were watching him like a cat watches a mouse.

They were pirates.

Wolfram had suspected this but now, seeing the men's various clothing, and no flag on the mast, it became painfully apparent. Most of them also had faces which, if seen, were best to avoid as much at night as in the daylight. Wolfram's eyes wandered over the board. He swallowed loudly. Needless to say, he didn't feel well and to suddenly see the vast water all around suddenly made his stomach spasm. He doubled over and retched.

"Can it be that you're seasick?" the captain wondered aloud while watching Wolfram heaving with dry spasms. "My men have complained to me about the mess you've made downstairs."

Wolfram didn't answer anything to that. "What," he breathed out, "are you going to do with me?" His head was spinning again and he wanted to lean against something very badly.

"Well, first," he counted off on his fingers, "you're going to tell me your name, then clean up your vomit off yourself and my ship, and then we'll see."

"You're a Demon," Wolfram stated although he wasn't very certain.

The captain nodded. "That's right. And?"

Wolfram tried to think. This meant that they were not from around here. The crew was of various nationalities and races and they didn't know him. How, in the world, did they appear here? And, even more importantly, what in the world, was Kardera's almighty navy doing allowing pirates to freely frequent their territory?

Ah right, the fog.

"Oh my," the captain said looking down at Wolfram, whose legs had just folded underneath him and now he was lying flat on the deck. His eyes set on the sword the blond was holding apart from his body. "It's best you dropped the blade after all. Not that we care much, but try not to kill yourself – maybe there's still some use to you."

Despite the general weakness, Wolfram managed to blush. To his embarrassment, the man was right. Then Wolfram's eyelids fluttered shut and he drifted off into darkness.

When Wolfram woke up, he found that he had been allowed to keep the liberty of unbound hands and feet. The next thing he noticed was that the jacket of his uniform was missing and now he was wearing only his shirt. Reluctantly, he put this down to the jacket being covered in filth and smelling like a pile of shit. His face wasn't covered in his vomit anymore as well. Mainly, he thought this was because he was in a bed which was relatively clean and it clearly belonged to someone. He didn't have his boots on, either.

Wolfram was in a different cabin than the one he had been in before. There was no oil lamp burning but the door wasn't closed and the light from the outside allowed him to see what was where. He looked around the cabin but the sword he had picked up earlier was nowhere to be seen. This was not a big surprise. A big surprise would have been if he had been allowed to keep it.

The blond took another look at the cabin. It was, just like the bed, relatively clean. It was cluttered but somehow it managed to create some sense of order: clothes were in the pile with clothes, a few maps and books were stacked in a small cupboard. Two pairs of boots were in one corner, hats in another. Wolfram noticed a spyglass and took it. It could not be compared to a sword but it was better than nothing.

Wolfram's boots were beside the bed and he pulled them on. When he walked out into the corridor, he saw that he had been in a cabin farthest from the stairs. Keeping in mind that there was only one bed in it, he suspected that it was the captain's cabin.

"Oh, our sleeping beauty is up again."

Instinctively, Wolfram drew himself back into the cabin and raised the spyglass in a defensive gesture, preparing to hit the man who had appeared from the opposite door to the cabin.

"Why so unfriendly?" the captain chuckled. "And to think I carried you all the way downstairs…"

Wolfram's hand faltered. The captain was casually holding his sword, carving a hole on the door casing just next to him. Wolfram lowered the spyglass to the ground. Remembering the previous experience, he didn't even try summoning his fire element in case it would do more damage than be useful; the man in front of him was a Demon as well, he could not risk failing.

"That's a good boy."

Wolfram stiffened as the blade neared his throat. It didn't press against his skin but it was uncomfortably close. Keeping his eyes on the sword, Wolfram stepped back deeper into the cabin.

"Shall I tie you up again? You seem very resourceful…"

"I need to go to the bathroom," Wolfram blurted out before he could stop himself. His bladder was bursting and if he was going to be tied up again….

"Well, yes, I suppose you do," the captain nodded. He moved aside, freeing the path to the door. "Don't take too long, though," he warned, sheathing his sword. "There are a few matters we need to discuss."

Bypassing the man in a quite wide circle, Wolfram kept his eyes on him, watching out for any sudden movement. The captain didn't even move a muscle.

"Where is the bathroom?" Wolfram asked.

"Well, it depends. If you want to take a piss, just let it fountain over the board. If you're up for more serious business, then there's a bucket in the stern. Just pour it out into the sea when you're done."

The captain was watching him intently and Wolfram realized that the man was gauging his reaction. The captain chuckled when he understood that Wolfram was aware of that.

"You're pretty smart, aren't you, rich boy? And here I thought I'd amuse myself to my heart's content. I must commend you for not killing Ariba as well."

"I'd never get away from here alive if I had," Wolfram muttered.

"Yes," the captain nodded. "I'm glad you understand that." His tone was conversational but Wolfram could feel the steel underneath. "But don't let me detain you."

There were about ten men on the upper deck. Two were fixing a fishnet, three cleaning the fish, one was up in the crow's nest, others just lazing about or tinkering with ropes. All activity was ceased as soon as they noticed Wolfram marching toward the end of the ship.

The bucket indeed was there just as the captain had said. It was also tied to the railing so that it would not get washed away into the sea during a storm. Wolfram turned around to see the pirates staring at him. He hoped he could manage to get away from this ship very fast. Otherwise, there was the prospect of some very serious constipation.

The board was pretty high and he looked around for something to stand on. A wooden box lay nearby and he brought it closer. Emptying his bladder into the sea didn't cause him as much discomfort as he had expected because, once he started it, the only thing he could think about was how good it felt after having held it in for such a long time. However, the problem was the sea itself. He belatedly realized that it would have been better if he had closed his eyes. He hardly managed to button up his trousers as he doubled over the board, his body heaving. There was some bile at first. Later, there were only dry heaves.

Dizzily, Wolfram held onto the board, feeling the headache return. He felt someone prying his fingers off the board and was glad of it because the box under his feet didn't feel stable and he wasn't that certain he wouldn't fall into the water. Suddenly, he felt he was lying on the deck.

"And what are we going to do with you? You get seasick every five minutes." The captain scratched his chin in thought. "Wait…You are a fire wielder, aren't you?"

Wolfram ignored the captain. He still felt like gagging, but now that he had concentrated on staring upwards at the sky, his stomach seemed to be settling. He could see half of the captain's face hovering above him.

"And a powerful one at that," the captain continued. "There's always something disagreeable between the sea and fire wielders."

"I," Wolfram heaved, "I just don't like it moving!"

The captain laughed softly. He pulled Wolfram up onto his unsteady feet. "Let's get you downstairs," he said, starting to lead the blond. "It seems it's best to keep you where you can't see it or you'll end up puking your guts out."

Wolfram allowed himself to be led to the cabin he had been in before and laid down onto the bed. His plans didn't include anything else except for lying still at the moment. He jerked at something cool and wet pressing to his forehead.

"It's just a wet rag," the captain said. "There's a large lump on your forehead. Foren is a strong lad. You'd probably be dead if you were a Human."

The coolness felt heavenly on Wolfram's skin. He felt like drifting away again but a few light slaps on his face brought him back.

"Don't get too comfortable. There're still a few things we need to discuss."

"I am thirsty," Wolfram said, sitting up, holding the wet rag on his forehead so that it wouldn't fall off.

The captain rolled his eyes. However, he said nothing and rounded the bed to get to a wooden box on the other side of it. After opening its lid, he pulled out a bottle.

"Just water would be fine," Wolfram said at the sight of the green bottle.

"It _is_ water. These bottles are convenient to keep small amounts of it instead of going to retrieve some from the kitchen or hold."

Only after emptying half of the bottle at once did Wolfram realize how thirsty he had been. He wasn't certain about the last time he had eaten, either. Things had gotten out of hand.

While drinking, Wolfram had time to take a better look at the captain. It was hard to tell his age as with all Demons, but with him in the captain's position Wolfram guessed that he was at least over fifty. He looked young, though. If he were a human, one would think he was in his early twenties. His face was round but unexpectedly hard with narrow eyes, a small mouth and tanned skin. His short hair was brown. It was dark but it was probably because it needed washing. He wore no mustache, which Wolfram usually associated with pirates. Maybe, he was shaving it really thoroughly or it wasn't growing in yet, which would mean the captain was less than forty. The man was heavily built, which was the only thing matching his big round face.

"How long have I been here?" Wolfram asked after having glugged the bottle down to the last drop. He returned it to the captain.

"For two days." Wolfram looked startled and the captain laughed. Then his face got serious. "It's very simple. If you want to leave here alive, you'll behave. Now listen, your folks must be swimming in money. Tell me your name, we will arrange a nice little exchange and you'll be free to go. We will even allow you to keep all of your fingers."

Wolfram considered this. He was fond of his fingers but he wasn't certain his uncle was as fond of him. After the death of his brother and Wolfram's father, _Waltorana_ became the regent ruling the von Bielefeld land until Wolfram was ready to return and claim it as his. If Wolfram never returned…well, then Waltorana wouldn't need to return the land to anyone.

In spite of thinking this, Wolfram was certain that Waltorana would pay up. He simply wanted to bear all the possibilities in mind. Besides, if not Waltorana, then he could rely on his brother or Yuuri. The thought about Yuuri made him cringe, though. It would be better if this didn't reach Yuuri. He could barely imagine bigger shame: he had gone away against all protests and then had gotten himself kidnapped. If, in the end, Yuuri would have to pay for him… No, he would rather deal with his uncle.

"Wolfram von Bielefeld," Wolfram muttered after a long pause during which it seemed that the captain was going to lose his temper. "You can send a letter to my uncle Waltorana von Bielefeld. He will pay."

The captain's face clouded over. "Von Bielefeld?" he repeated slowly, realizing that his men had sunk their teeth into a very large piece of meat, maybe even too large. "Are you in any way related to Gwendal von Voltaire?"

"He is my half-brother."

The captain held back a curse. As if being a von Bielefeld wasn't enough, the youth was also a brother to the general of Shin Makoku's army himself. If not handled carefully, this might end with him and his men being hunted by half of the world.

"I've never gotten along with "_vons_" but you seem a very promising lad," the captain finally said, clapping Wolfram's shoulder. "Let's hope your uncle does pay."

"And if he doesn't?"

"As said, a few fingers or an ear might convince him to."

"And if he still doesn't?"

The captain slowly drew his index finger across his throat. "Then you're dead, my boy. But don't worry, I'm certain your uncle will be generous. After all, what's a few thousand for the von Bielefelds?"

Wolfram lay down and adjusted the now warm rag on his forehead. He thought he ought to ask for food but with repetitive bouts of sickness, he didn't feel hungry.

"I told you my name, so I'd be very obliged to know yours," Wolfram muttered.

"You can call me Sharp Ronny."

"Alright," Wolfram said before falling asleep.

He woke up to someone prodding him. Dizzily, he looked around. The cabin was dark but he didn't need light to realize that there was someone else with him in the bed. Actually, that "someone" had thrown an arm over his waist. Wolfram frowned. He remembered he was the one taking the captain's bed. Sharp Ronny saw no reason to surrender his comfortable nest to a newcomer. But it was not as though he had come onto the ship willingly.

Wolfram shifted carefully and peered at the man beside him. If he took Ronny hostage, then maybe he would have a chance to get away from this damn ship. However, there were always those who were underneath and couldn't wait to step up a ladder. Suddenly, there might be someone saying that if the captain was stupid enough to be taken hostage, then it served him right to die.

Was it even worth a try? He was treated pretty well and all he had to do was to sit still and wait for Waltorana to pay the ransom. He was fairly certain that he would be released as soon as the money was paid – there were no idiots who would want to have the entire country of Shin Makoku as their mortal enemy. Of course, his pride hurt somewhat but there was no point in taking stupid risks. It was better to feel pride hurting than to be dead or crippled for the rest of his life.

Grumbling, Wolfram turned on his side and pushed the offending arm off himself. He still didn't feel well but at least he felt thirsty and somewhat hungry. He slipped out of the bed and stumbled to the wooden box at the other side of the bed. He opened it and started looking for a bottle with water blindly.

Wolfram shrieked in surprise as he was grabbed suddenly and thrown down onto the bed. He lay there perfectly still as he felt something cool and sharp press to his neck.

"Looking for something?"

Wolfram didn't dare speak. Then he felt the blade move a little away from his neck. "Water," he mumbled, shaken up. "Thirsty," he added, feeling his heartbeat drumming in his ears. He suddenly felt sick again.

The blade retreated and Wolfram had to close his eyes as, in a few seconds, a lantern flared to life. The captain inspected the bottle Wolfram's fingers were still wrapped around. Then he saw the blond's hand travel to his mouth.

"The bucket is at the door," Sharp Ronny said, taking the bottle from Wolfram.

For a few second he listened to the blond gagging over the bucket then lifted his pillow to hide the dagger under it again. He took a look at the bottle again. Wolfram had gotten a bottle of brandy. Sighing, the captain rolled out of the bed and put it back into the box. Then he found a bottle with water.

"Come here," he motioned as it seemed that the bout of sickness was over. "Search through your pockets," he said after Wolfram had staggered over to the bed.

Wolfram did so and he felt something small and hard in his left pocket. He pulled it out then started and dropped it to the floor after realizing what it was.

An Esoteric Stone.

"Sorry about that, darling," the captain said, petting Wolfram's hair. "It was just in case you tried something funny."

Wolfram smacked at his hand, glaring. It was no wonder he had felt so wretched and hadn't been able to call on his element. The captain just kept grinning at him and Wolfram flopped onto the bed, irritated.

"Here's your water and wash your mouth first."

Wolfram grabbed the bottle from the captain's hand and went back to the bucket. He already felt better. He rinsed his mouth then drank the rest of the bottle. When he returned to the bed, the captain was already slumbering. A loud fart echoed in the room.

"Oh god," Wolfram choked out, waving his hands in front of him. He had hoped he had gotten used to this in the barracks, but could still not keep the disgust out of his voice.

"Come here," Sharp Ronny said, lifting the cover.

Wolfram turned his face away from the cloud of putrid stench and lay on his side, scowling. He startled as an arm wrapped around his waist again then slid down to pat him on the front of his trousers.

"Well, maybe, if your uncle appears to be one mean asshole, I'll just keep you for myself."

Speechless, Wolfram lay without moving a muscle for a few seconds. He didn't really understand the situation but this was sexual harassment, right?

"Don't count on it," Wolfram said finally.

Tbc


	6. Part 6

**Zafira**: okies

**Alicia Spinet**: the news of Wolfram's kidnapping would reach Shin Makoku only in a day or two at best even if they use their winged skeletons. The life in Shin Makoku won't be shown. I chose to present everything from Wolfram's point of view. At some point we will return to Blood Pledge Caste, though.

**Raywolf Shibelt**: thanks, here's more :)

**alguien22792**: Well, no matter how exotic or dangerous the pirates are, I only used them to get Wolfram to a place where I want him to be. The pirates will more or less disappear after this chapter. We'll see them much, much later, in 30 or so chapters.

**Narudi18**: Thank you for the inspiring comment :) This chapter will reveal how the duke appears in the picture. He will do his best to stay in that picture too XD

xxxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: The tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 6

It was early morning and Wolfram was scrubbing the floor on the upper deck. He had previously cleaned one cabin downstairs. His vomit had already dried up and it had taken time to wash it off. He was disgusted to think the pirates slept in the mess like it was nothing, but figured that they had seen and smelt worse.

The pirates didn't pay Wolfram much attention. It seemed to him that he had become an errand boy. A pile of dirty clothing had already been assembled for him in one of the cabins and was waiting to be washed right after he was done with the floor.

Wolfram was too worn out to accept this as a joke or humiliation or to react in any way at all, really. This simply reminded him of his first month at barracks when all the newcomer soldiers were required to do some serious housekeeping. He had had blisters on his hands from washing and darning clothes.

Despite what he had expected, after getting rid of the Esoteric Stone from his pocket, he didn't feel much better. He still had bouts of headaches and sickness. The pirates found his reaction to the sea funny. They probably thought that it should pass in a day or two. However, Wolfram knew that it wouldn't. It never did. No matter how many times he had been on board with Yuuri, it was still the same – he hated the sea.

As long as it wasn't very wavy and he wasn't looking at it, it was okay. The sky, though, wasn't sending any good signs. About midday, it started darkening. Wolfram had been on enough ships to know the signs of an incoming storm. He was already preparing for the worst when it was suddenly decided that they were going to the quiet bay in Marosa to wait out the storm, refill their supplies, sell some of the loot, and send a letter to Wolfram's uncle.

Wolfram was very relieved to hear this. It was not that he thought he would have a chance of escaping; he would certainly be locked up in a cabin once in the bay. Even if he weren't, he didn't think he had enough strength to be chased by a handful of strong men. Rather, he could not bear the thought of himself in a stormy sea. Thankful, nonetheless, he simply concentrated on doing the laundry.

Wolfram heard the boards in the corridor creak and then raised his head as a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Still cooped up here, I see," Sharp Ronny said, looking at barefooted Wolfram sitting amidst basins. A lantern was burning on the table but it was only half-light in the cabin. Both wet and dry clothes were scattered all over the floor. The blond was wet from head to toe, the floor was slippery. The captain couldn't tell which clothes were supposed to be dirty and which already washed.

"What?" Wolfram asked after noticing the captain inspecting his work.

"You do realize that this is my cabin?"

"Ah, right," Wolfram muttered darkly, "your prestigious cabin."

The captain waited for the blond to add something but he neither added nor showed any intention to move anywhere. He simply continued splashing the water around, shivering lightly.

"Go and do this on the upper deck."

"I like it here better. The sight of the sea makes me sick, it's windy, and I don't like people pinching my butt."

"Must have been High Standard."

"High Standard?"

"It's his nickname. When he first joined, he always used to say he had high standards for this or that."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so now he must be thinking: 'What a high standard ass!'"

Wolfram frowned at the clothes in his hands. As long as this wasn't leading to the acting on curiosity of 'high standard sex', he could deal with it. He was pretty certain that he could. He had had male suitors – one before Yuuri, another during their engagement. Under those circumstances, he knew how to get rid of unwanted attention.

The captain watched the blond for a few long seconds then, carefully so as not to slip, walked over to the bed and sat down. The blond had been right to avoid his men. He didn't know what exactly Wolfram thought of the situation, but it was obvious that the blond wasn't taking this as seriously as he should. It was because of his mindset, the lack of experience, or his poor health condition, which, maybe, prevented him from worrying too much and getting even worse.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"A slice of bread. It came back up right away."

"It's best you rest after doing the laundry. There is no point in you dying before we get the money."

"Right. It would be a grand waste," Wolfram muttered bitterly. With the amount of laundry around him, he was going to be able to rest only in the afterlife. This kind of generosity caused a surge of anger and a wish to empty a basket of rinsing over the captain. This, in turn, resulted in a throbbing headache and Wolfram lay down on the floor. He stared at the ceiling, fighting his anger.

"Hey, you alive there?"

Wolfram snorted.

"Is that 'yes' or 'no'?"

"I'm alright. My head hurts again."

"I think you might have a concussion."

"Yes, I'm pretty certain I should be lying in a bed instead of washing someone's dirty underwear."

"Yeah, you're right; I've never seen anyone as lousy as you at washing."

The silence after this stretched for too long.

The captain chuckled. "Could it be that I hurt your feelings?" There was still no answer and he got up from the bed. The blond was lying on the floor motionlessly with his eyes closed.

"Wolfram? Hey, Wolfram?" the captain called, lightly slapping the blond on his face. He was surprised at how cold the blond's body felt. He started unbuttoning the blond's wet shirt off. In a few seconds, Wolfram stirred lightly.

"Mm?"

The blond looked totally out of it. Confused, Wolfram felt his upper body rise then watched his arm being threaded out of the sleeve of his shirt.

"You fainted. Are you cold?"

The blond was frowning slightly, trying to grasp the mystery of his disappearing shirt. Then he jerked, his eyes finally focusing, and he pushed at the captain's chest. "What the hell are you doing?" he snarled, grabbing his shirt off the floor and stumbling to his feet. He immediately regretted that as fireworks exploded behind his eyes and his legs folded underneath him. He would have hit the ground if not for Sharp Ronny catching him.

"Stay still," the captain said, starting to unbutton Wolfram's trousers.

Despite being dizzy and disoriented, Wolfram managed to give him a look which was wondering if the captain was right in the head.

"Let go of me this instance."

"Suit yourself," the captain said, pushing Wolfram off himself and to the floor. He was satisfied to hear a soft yelp coming from the blond. "Undress and go to bed. I'll tell my men they will have to wash their clothes by themselves." He looked at the mess on the floor, again wondering if there were any clothes at all the blond had washed. "But you know, they will think I'm fucking you."

"Anything," Wolfram growled out, peeling his wet trousers off his legs, "just let me sleep!"

* * *

><p>Wolfram was sleeping when a powerful bang flung him right off the bed and onto the floor. He lay still for a few seconds, waiting for a sharp pain behind his eyes to pass. Then, he checked to see if the harsh fall hadn't broken any of his limbs. No time to gather his wits, he got on all fours and found that the floor was tilted. He could smell smoke and hear shouts on the upper deck.<p>

Wolfram stumbled in the direction of the door and opened it. Something whooshed somewhere and a deafening crash followed. Wood splintered somewhere at the other end of the ship, screams echoed. The corridor was slowly filling up with smoke.

Carefully, Wolfram started climbing upstairs. The ship was strongly tilted and he had to keep a firm hold on the railing. Another impact shook the ship and Wolfram nearly tumbled backwards off the stairs.

The upper deck was on fire. Through the smoke, Wolfram could see that some of the sails were already in tatters, some burning, others with holes made by cannon balls. Farther in the distance, he could see five ships. They were still firing, the heavy cannon balls whooshing and exploding around. With the pirate ship tilted, it could not use its cannons. The pirates were arming themselves and lowering dinghies into the sea.

Wolfram looked around. The shore was about two hundred meters away. The ship was sinking now, and Wolfram figured that the enormous impact that had thrown him off the bed was them hitting a reef. The other ships must have chased them into it deliberately.

He had to get out of this ship. He was a pretty good swimmer but two hundred meters in a wavy and cold sea in his health condition wasn't possible. He had to get into one of the dinghies, and this wasn't going to be easy, either.

Nobody was paying Wolfram much attention. Besides, the smoke was making it hard to see, helping him to stay unnoticed. Belatedly, Wolfram realized that he wasn't wearing any clothing apart from his underwear, but there was no time to lose. Most of the pirates had already fled and Wolfram could see three overcrowded dinghies speeding towards the shore.

There was still one dinghy on the left side of the ship, the side into which the ship was listing. There were a few pirates around. Obviously, they were armed, and he had only his underwear. Wolfram looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. He sighted a paddle farther on the deck and hurried there.

Wolfram faltered as he suddenly found himself face to face with a man who had appeared from behind a few barrels. Not allowing the pirate to recover from his surprise, Wolfram slammed his shoulder into him. He had concentrated all his strength into that and the two of them tumbled onto the floor. Wolfram saw stars before his eyes, but he had also stunned the other man.

They rolled over the floor, grappling. Wolfram considered himself lucky that this was a Human and he had a chance of overpowering him. A Demon would have had him on his knees during first few seconds.

The Human managed to throw him off but Wolfram was on him again, holding his wrist, not letting him pull out his sword. The man tried to free his wrist but Wolfram didn't let go. He blocked the pirate's other hand when the man wanted to punch him. Then happened something which Wolfram hadn't expected: the blinding pain that flared up in his groin made him howl and drop rolling to the floor. As if through the mist, Wolfram still was aware of his shock and surprise: this was what dirty fighting felt like, and it was ungodly efficient. He wished somebody had taught him this at the Military Academy.

Sharp Ronny and a few of his other men looked at the pirate who was dragging the half-conscious Wolfram towards their dinghy.

"What are you doing with him?" Sharp Ronny demanded.

"He will be a valuable hostage."

The captain gave him a skeptical look. He pointed at the four ships on the horizon. "That ship with the dragon sail belongs to von Ashira. You know very well what the bastard is like. He doesn't negotiate. He will kill this rich kid himself and then tell everyone that it was us who did it. He will say he didn't even have the slightest idea the kid was on board. Remember what happened to Hairy Harry?"

The other pirate cursed and dropped Wolfram to the floor.

The captain shrugged. "He's useless, but let's take him with us anyway," he said. "He will either drown or the soldiers will kill him on sight."

"I knew you were fucking him!"

The captain laughed. He looked around but these were the last of his men left. He ordered to drop the dinghy into the water.

Wolfram became aware of his surroundings only when there was an enormous splash and he suddenly found himself choking on water.

"Give me your hand," the captain called out for him. Spluttering and coughing, Wolfram managed to reach the boat. Sharp Ronny grabbed the blond's hand and pulled him into the dinghy, the pirates starting to row with vigor.

The four ships were close now. Two of them with turned flanks were sending volleys of cannonballs toward the escaping pirate dinghies. Wolfram watched them passively. He felt like in a dream. He wasn't even certain whether or not he was afraid. His mind simply couldn't fathom the possibility that he might be mistaken for a pirate and killed like one. This…this was simply impossible.

Instinctively, Wolfram ducked as a cannon ball zoomed above them. It fell about ten meters away from them, not causing any damage, hardly rocking the dinghy. Momentarily relieved and at the same time horrified, he watched another ball arc from one of the ships and head towards them. With quickly growing anxiety, his eyes were following the trajectory of the ball.

Wolfram grabbed the side of the dingy, but couldn't hold on as a sudden, rough wave lifted it and sloshed it sideways. They tried to keep their balance, but it was too late. The bodies tipped the vessel the rest of the way over, plunging it into the water. The dinghy scattered its passengers like a poppy its seeds.

They were still about a hundred meters to the shore. Keeping a hold of the overturned boat, Wolfram thought about what he should do. Staying like this, he was going to freeze and drown anyway. No matter what, he had to try for the shore.

At first, with his body flooded with adrenaline, Wolfram didn't feel very much. He simply concentrated on every swing of his arms and the movements of his legs. A minute later, he started freezing in the autumn water. His palms hurt from the splinters he had gotten while trying to keep hold of the wooden side of the vessel. Even though he was doing his best, the shore seemed to be so far away. He could see some of the pirates already disembarking, running along the beach. Two other boats were also nearly there.

Wolfram was now trailing behind. The bobbing heads of those who had been together with him in the dinghy were putting more and more distance between them. He could see the captain's black hat far ahead. Obviously, the man was a very good swimmer.

With horror, Wolfram watched uniformed riders appear on the shore. He could hear dogs barking. The sunset reflected light off drawn swords. These were soldiers and this was a well-organized hunt.

Wolfram looked at the two dinghies that were still afloat. The men had nearly reached the shore but now stayed on their boats, not climbing out. Behind them were the enemy ships. In front of them were the enemy soldiers. They were trapped.

While they could stay in their boats and await their fate, Wolfram had to reach the shore. His fate at the moment was crystal-clear – either he was going to reach the shore or drown. It was probably a twenty meter swim. The coast seemed so close and so far at the same time. With every passing moment, his legs and arms seemed to become heavier and heavier, until it felt as if leaden weights were attached to them. Now he was fighting for his life, trying not to gulp water. If he did that, it was over. He started coughing and losing his coordination, his mind going blank.

Now there were only ten meters left and his lungs were burning. His whole body was protesting, begging for relief. He fought desperately against the deadly pull of the waves. He didn't want to die yet. Not yet, not ever. He was too young. He still had to see and learn many things. It seemed to him that during the last week at the fort he had started enjoying life again.

Wolfram imagined he could already feel the sand under his feet. More, a little more, was all he was asking for. More time, more strength, luck, more everything before his previous life started replaying in his eyes.

When Wolfram felt sand under his feet, he wasn't certain whether it was only his wishful thinking or reality. Shaking like a leaf, he climbed from the water on all fours and collapsed on the beach. Dogs and soldiers had flooded the coast, but Wolfram had no strength left to think about them. He simply wanted to rest.

The soldiers were rounding up the rest of the pirates. At first, the pirates had kept together to fight them but the soldiers overwhelmed them by the sheer number and half of them rode horses, not leaving any chance for the pirates to outrun them. Here and there, a fight would break out but once a pirate brandished a sword, there was no mercy left for him. The beach had already grown mounds of lonely bodies.

The Duke of Raizgad had left his ship and now was supervising the progress of the company on the beach. He was on horseback, riding among his troops, while the last of the pirates were being bound into ropes. From afar, it was not easy to tell the duke apart from his soldiers as he was wearing the same brown uniform as his men, except that his jacket was longer and bore the crest of von Ashira House. His dark violet hair was tied behind his back so as not to get in his face. He seemed to be very content with how the execution of the operation had turned out.

"Your Grace!"

The duke turned to look at the soldier who had called. "Yes?"

"This one is dying, Your Grace," the soldier said. "Shall I just finish him off or admit him to a medical bay?"

The duke watched his soldier grab a handful of blond hair and lift a nearly naked man's head for him to see. Not a muscle moved on von Ashira's face to show his surprise or that he knew the man. He thought about how easy it would be to annihilate one of the most prominent Houses in Shin Makoku. With the end of Wolfram von Bielefeld's existence, it would be over. According to the intelligence he had read, the youth's uncle was sterile.

The duke watched his soldier draw a dagger. Right now, von Bielefeld was nothing but a despicable pirate. Later, of course, he would present his condolences to his family, expressing his sorrow for Wolfram's unfortunate fate. To convey his solidarity, he would hang all the pirates who had killed the blond.

"Your Grace?"

Von Ashira averted his eyes from Wolfram's face to the soldier's, who now was holding the dagger close to the blond's throat. But in the end, what was the point? Some other family would take over the von Bielefelds' lands, and, gods knew, they weren't going to be even a tiny bit better than von Bielefelds.

"Oh my!" the duke exclaimed abruptly. "This is Lord von Bielefeld!"

Not understanding whether it was a joke or the truth, the soldier stared at the duke, waiting.

"I would suggest you remove that dagger at once. This is Lord von Bielefeld you are threatening."

"Of course, Your Grace," the soldier spilled out, quickly hiding his dagger.

"Transport him to the castle and call my personal doctor. I want him examined at once."

"Yes, Your Grace, right away."

After leaving the orders with the soldier, the duke turned his horse around and rode away to check the rest of the pirates; if von Bielefeld was here, then maybe there was also someone else who was unfortunate enough to get into the pirates' clutches. Once he departed, the soldiers he had left behind met each others' eyes uneasily, sharing the realization of what had just transpired here. Then, they went about the business of finding a cart and sending someone to inform the duke's doctor about a new patient as well as locating a blanket or some other cover that they could wrap the blond into.

* * *

><p>Eldara von Ashira returned to his castle four hours later. Once he set his foot inside, he was vigorously questioned about the new resident by his excited sister. Then, after managing to quench Halea's thirst for gossipy details, the duke went to have a bath. After that, he had dinner. It was long overdue but the servants in the kitchen quickly rustled up a few sandwiches and heated leftovers. Once the duke dulled the edge off his appetite, he went to see his guest.<p>

As Eldara had given no orders concerning von Bielefeld's accommodation, and his younger brother was absent from home, his sister had been the one to make the decisions. Halea had placed von Bielefeld in one of the guest rooms.

The duke entered the room to find the doctor still there, sitting on one of the chairs, looking bored; he had been waiting for the duke's return to personally inform him of the patient's health. Eldara closed the door softly behind himself. He walked over to the bed to take a look at the blond's face. He couldn't see very well in the half-darkness of the candles but, even then, it seemed that Wolfram was too pale.

"Well?" Eldara inquired the doctor, who had started gathering his instruments and putting them back into his valise.

"He has a serious concussion. He is sleeping now."

Eldara's eyes took in the bruise on the blond's forehead. It was healing already but its size and variety of colors was a sight to behold. He nodded. "Anything else? Have you checked him for sexual abuse?"

"Certainly, Your Grace," the doctor said, giving the duke a little reproachful look, which Eldara accepted as deserved for patronizing the doctor; they had known each other for over twenty years now and the doctor expected him to trust his skill.

"It didn't find any other internal or external injuries," the doctor continued. "His palms are bruised and were full of splinters but that has been taken care of." He faltered, throwing the duke a quick glance. "Well, his nether regions are somewhat swollen. It doesn't seem that there is any long-term damage, though."

Eldara gave the doctor a questioning look.

"To put it bluntly, Your Grace, somebody has kicked him in the nuts."

"Oh, I see," Eldara said, frowning in sympathy. At the same time, he was relieved nothing worse had happened to von Bielefeld. Now, as he had taken Wolfram under his care, he wanted as few complications as possible.

The duke moved forward to the blond's bed. He could see his palms wrapped in light bandages and there was the smell of ointment. Wolfram looked different than the last time he had seen him: he had grown, was more muscled but, unsurprisingly, thinner, his blond hair was longer and matted with grease and dirt. He stank. Eldara pressed the back of his hand to Wolfram's temple. The skin was surprisingly cool. The blond didn't even twitch or react in any way to his touch.

"He needs a bath," Eldara stated.

"He needs as much rest as possible," the doctor replied. "A bath can wait. Plenty of sleep at night and lazing about in bed at daytime," he continued. "No physical exercise whatsoever. For now, it's best for him to avoid all kinds of excitement. During the next few days he will probably still have bouts of dizziness, headaches, or nausea or, possibly, everything at once. Sometimes the aftereffects of a concussion can last for an entire lifetime. His condition needs to be closely observed. I'll probably be able to tell more in only a few days."

"Alright."

"It seems he hasn't eaten for a few days. But, if he feels nauseous, he will probably refuse food. Still, it would be good to encourage him to eat something nourishing but not too hard to digest. I'll leave all my instructions with the nurse; I have taken the liberty to call one over from the medical bay."

"Yes, perfect. She can also stay in one of the guest rooms and watch over him."

The doctor had already packed his valise and was now standing at the door. "I'll come to check on him tomorrow at about the same time, Your Grace. I think that being a young and healthy Demon, he should fully recover in less than a month."

"Yes," Eldara nodded, smiling wryly. "Demons are extremely tenacious, gods damn them. Thank you, Doctor. We'll see each other tomorrow, then."

"Yes, Your Grace."

The duke took another look at the blond and then left the room as well. He still had to write a long and complicated letter to Gwendal von Voltaire explaining how and why his little brother was staying in his castle. And Gwendal von Voltaire was not the sort of man you wanted to worry.

Tbc


	7. Part 7

**alguien22792**: Oh, Wolfram and Eldara are going to have lots fun in probably all possible meanings of this word XD

**Narudi**: No, no. No memory losses here. I don't like reading about characters that conveniently lose their memories, so I won't torture you with mine. Wolfram simply will have to accept the fact of where he is and what his wellbeing depends on.

Yes, Eldara and Yuuri have quite different personalities. Well, Eldara is much older than Yuuri as well. I always imagine that with age Yuuri would become wiser, more careful in his actions. That's how I like portraying him in my other fanfics.

Thank you for your comments :) I have a buffer or quite many chapters, so I plan to upload once a week until I get to the unbeta-read chapters. Up to date, Bloom has 33 complete chapters.

**Shibelt**: Yeah, it is difficult to say whether Wolfram is in good hands now or not. The duke can be unpredictable as Wolfram will learn.

**Guest**: Yep, the fated meeting of Wolfram and Eldara. The one that was completely staged up.

**Zafira**: Thanks, hopefully, you'll find more characters that will be interesting to read about.

xxxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 7

Wolfram slept during the first two days. The duke had been informed that he had woken up a few times to eat and to go to the bathroom, but, otherwise, he simply slept, just as the doctor had said. On the third day, the nurse came to Eldara to report that von Bielefeld had woken up and was very agitated.

"Right," said the duke, putting a chicken wing aside. He brushed a napkin over his lips and then wiped his fingers with it. "First thing he does after waking up is disturb my meal. This is definitely a good sign."

Halea rolled her eyes. "It's not that he chose to…"

"I know, Halea," the duke sighed, standing up. "What I meant is rather different. Now he will probably demand I bring him home at once. And then, he will complain to me how unsatisfactory the service is and how he finds his bed uncomfortable."

"Most definitely," Athara agreed. "He's exactly the type you described."

Eldara gave his youngest sibling a questioning look. "Do you know him well?"

His brother shrugged. "Not really. Both of us studied at the Military Academy at the same time. But he is older and we were in different years and separate groups."

"I see."

"I also remember that he was very good at his studies. However," Athara continued, "as far as I remember, he has always had a very explosive character. Literally. He despises Humans, too."

"Ah," the duke said, frowning. "Combining these features doesn't bring me much joy."

Athara nodded. "Exactly. But despising Humans was a part of contemporary fashion one followed in order to fit in, so maybe…" he drawled, leaving it hanging.

"Alright. Tell the servants not to clear the table off just in case I'm not gone for long. Then again, after seeing von Bielefeld, I might lose my appetite altogether."

"I'm confident that won't happen," Halea said.

Grinning, Athara looked at his sister. "She certainly likes him."

"Yes, I was thinking that since this opportunity has already presented itself, I should just marry them off."

"If it's you, dear brother, then I'm certain that you will succeed," said Athara saluting the duke with his wineglass. Mixed together with playfulness, there was certain bitterness in his words, which didn't elude Eldara's ears.

Halea sighed. "And nobody has asked me if I want to marry him."

"Certainly you do!" Athara exclaimed. "Who doesn't? He's rich, influential, handsome, and young!"

"Careful, Halea," the duke warned. "It seems you have a rival here."

"You know I prefer women," Athara said. "Pity, though. He is a great catch."

"I should get going before your great catch falls asleep again."

When the duke entered the room where von Bielefeld was currently residing, it struck him that the blond's overall condition looked much better. He was sitting upright in the bed with his back leaning against the headboard. He wasn't so ghastly pale anymore. His hair was still a horrific sight, though, and the duke figured he knew what one of Wolfram's immediate requests was going to be.

The duke nodded politely. "Your Highness. How do you feel?"

Wolfram was obviously relieved to finally see someone who could speak his language but now was looking at Eldara, trying to remember where he had seen him.

"We have met at His Majesty Yuuri Shibuya's birthday party, Sir. I think that was about three months ago. I'm Eldara von Ashira," Eldara introduced himself with a light bow of his head. "The Duke of Raizgad."

Recognition lit up Wolfram's face but now he looked mildly startled. "I'm in Kardera?"

"Yes, Sir," Eldara confirmed. The blond's alarmed eyes set on his face. Eldara could see that his pupils were of slightly different sizes. He hadn't noticed this before; must be an aftereffect of the concussion.

"Your Grace," Wolfram muttered, suddenly remembering his manners. The next question, though, made the duke smile tersely: "Am I a prisoner?"

"No, Sir. You are a _patient_," the duke accentuated. Then, he thought that he was being rude and unfair to Wolfram. The blond was suffering from a concussion, had just woken up without understanding where he was and, of course, was a little panicky, not really thinking about what he was saying. Besides, there were sufficient grounds for von Bielefeld's suspicions – he had, in fact, debated with himself about allowing his soldiers to cut Wolfram's throat right there on the coast.

Seeing that, as predicted, this was going to take long, the duke went to the table in the middle of the room and took one of the four chairs. He carried it over to Wolfram's bed and, after the blond gave a quick nod, seated himself. The entire time, the blond had kept quiet, waiting for further explanations.

"Sir can travel home whenever he wishes," Eldara said softly, hopeful that his calm tone would help dissipate Wolfram's fears. "However, due to a serious concussion, the doctor advises as much rest as possible for the next few weeks. No physical exercise either. It would be in Sir's best interests to rest and heal."

Wolfram didn't look very convinced but seemed to relax somewhat. He touched himself on the forehead. His fingers prodded the bruise gently. He scratched his head. It was obvious that he knew that at least the part about his concussion was true.

"I…" Wolfram muttered, "I have to write home, Your Grace. To inform them about what happened."

Eldara wasn't certain if he should applaud the youth's mistrustfulness or be annoyed by it. "I hope I will be forgiven, Sir. I have already written to your brother, His Highness Gwendal von Voltaire. I informed him about your health condition and your current location."

"Oh. Thank you."

Eldara knew what was going to be the blond's next question and, thus, decided to hurry it up: "I sent the letter the day before yesterday and we haven't received the reply yet. It should come in five or six days if the sea is calm."

"Oh." Wolfram could not see the duke's face very well. The man had purposely chosen to sit next to the window and the low, afternoon sun prevented Wolfram from seeing his eyes. It was hard for Wolfram to gauge his reactions. "Then may I take the advantage of your hospitality, Your Grace?"

"Certainly, Sir."

"Thank you, Your Grace. If I could make one more request…"

"You are my most honored guest, Your Highness. There is no request you can't make."

Wolfram gave the duke a strained smile, making the duke realize that von Bielefeld knew these pompous formalities between them did not give him any reason to think he was very welcome here. This made Eldara grin inwardly.

"I am very grateful, Your Grace. I would like to take a bath."

The duke nodded. "Certainly, Sir." He stood up. "I'll tell the servants right away," he said, going for the door. He couldn't see Wolfram giving his back a thoughtful look while he was talking to the guard at the door.

"I'm sorry about your bed, Your Grace," Wolfram added when the duke returned to his seat. Now the blond was wary that there were guards at this door. This went both ways – he was either guarded from danger or from being dangerous to someone. "I'm not exactly…hmm…sanitary," he explained as the duke gave him a puzzled look.

"A hot bath can do wonders, Sir," the duke said, deciding to be courteous once again and not to inform the blond that he smelled a great deal as well.

"Your Grace, the maid who was here doesn't understand what I'm saying. Isn't there anyone who speaks at least one of Shin Makoku dialects?"

"She is not a maid, Your Highness," the duke corrected him. "She is a nurse. But seeing how Sir doesn't need much medical care, I can exchange her for a maid. There are quite a lot of people speaking the main language in Kardera but most of them are nobility or people who have one or another business with Demons."

"I see. Then there's no need for that, Your Grace. I would feel more assured if I were taken care of by a person who has received medical education."

Von Bielefeld was honest, the duke had to give him that. "My doctor comes once a day to check on Sir's health progress. Sir can have a word with him. He speaks the standard language fluently."

"Thank you, Your Grace. I'll definitely do that." Wolfram scratched his head. "I was wondering about clothes, Your Grace."

Eldara looked at a bathrobe hanging on one of the three chairs at the table. Very likely, this piece of clothing, aside from his blue underwear and someone's slippers, was the only one von Bielefeld had. "Right," the duke said, "when we found you, you were…" He fell silent at the cold look on von Bielefeld's face. "Right," Eldara repeated, "I'll make sure you have something to wear, Sir. Of course, we can't get anything tailored so fast, but my brother is about the same size. He also, more or less, follows the latest fashion as well."

For the first time, Wolfram took a good look at the duke. He couldn't tell exactly from his sitting position but the man was probably taller than him. His chest and shoulders were wider as well; he had more muscle, too. Von Ashira didn't seem much older, though, – very likely, he was in his mid-twenties. However, unlike himself, the duke had already reached his full growth. Thus, any of the duke's clothes would hang on him like on a coat hanger.

"Maybe Sir is interested in something from my wardrobe?" Eldara asked misinterpreting Wolfram's look.

Wolfram's eyes rose from the duke's stomach, where he had been admiring the shining buttons, and up to his face. "No, thank you, Your Grace." He wanted to add that he would look like a clown, but, thankfully, his brain reacted faster than his mouth and he avoided this dangerous faux pas. "I think it is already enough that I'm taking unfair advantage of your brother." Wolfram presumed that the duke's brother wasn't going to be very happy about this either. "Shouldn't I ask his permission first, Your Grace?" he wondered.

"Oh, I'm certain that he'll be honored to lend them to Your Highness."

Wolfram was starting to develop a headache from these pompous formalities and tension. He knew that, finally, he was more or less safe and he was feeling sleepy and tired again. He was already regretting he had asked for a bath.

"Ah!" Wolfram said suddenly. "What happened to the pirates?"

Eldara inspected the blond for a few seconds before answering. "Some of them resisted and died. Others are going to be hanged tomorrow, Sir."

Wolfram returned the duke's evaluating stare. Just like in the fort, just like on board, yet again, he got the feeling that everyone thought he was some naïve, sheltered kid. Alright, maybe he wasn't the toughest warrior on the planet, but he was not a spoiled brat, either. Well, not anymore. He knew what retribution and death were. He knew what pain was and he knew what love was.

After receiving the indignant stare, Eldara grinned unconsciously. Immediately, he regretted that as the blond seemed to be insulted even more. He hid his smile quickly. Von Bielefeld was supposed to be twenty but he was even worse than Athara. Teenagers were so sensitive and self-righteous.

"Your Grace, I…"

"Call me _Eldara_, please," the duke said, giving Wolfram a short smile.

Wolfram bowed his head lightly. He was surprised at the sudden wave of warmth from the duke. There was no change visually, but he could instinctively feel that something had changed. "Then, I will expect the same courtesy." Wolfram scratched his head. "About those pirates," he continued. "I think they have my signet ring. If there's any possibility of getting it back…"

Unconsciously, Eldara fingered his own signet ring. "I see. Yes, it could become a problem if it got into the wrong hands. I'll look into it," he said. His fingers let go of his ring and he lowered his hands back to his lap.

"Thank you."

Wolfram noticed that there were no other rings on the duke's fingers. It appeared that the duke was wearing the same uniform he had seen him with during Yuuri's birthday celebration. The cravat and silver cufflinks were different, though. The white cravat wasn't decorated with any kind of brooch. Actually, the man wasn't wearing any other jewelry except for a band in his hair, and even then, as far as he could see, it was only a strip of dark material without any ornamentation. Wolfram wondered if that was because the duke wasn't fond of jewelry or because the man realized that he was even more stunning without its glitter.

"Would you like to come and watch them hanged?"

There was something probing in Eldara's voice again and Wolfram didn't like that. "No," he said. "I'm not into that kind of thing." The weird smile stuck on the duke's face annoyed him. "Besides, they treated me pretty well."

"Mm… I see," Eldara said. He fingered his signet ring absentmindedly. "What about Sharp Ronny?"

"The captain?" Wolfram wondered. He gave the duke a suspicious look. "What about him?"

"No, nothing in particular, but there are rumors about him."

Eldara's silky tone was enough to make him understand what kind of rumors he meant. Wolfram felt his cheeks tinting red.

The duke chuckled, amused by Wolfram's silence and his lightly colored face. His brow rose a little. "I see that he was treating you _extremely _well; it will be a pity to hang him." He shrugged. "Ah well, such is the life of a pirate," he concluded. "I'll tell the servants to ready the clothes before your bath," he said before Wolfram could react in any way to his words. "They will change the sheets as well. Do you have any preferences concerning food?"

Wolfram watched him for a few seconds, then decided he had no objections to what the man had said. And even if he did, he would just make a fool of himself protesting. "No, not really. Just something simple, please. I'm not very good with foreign cuisines."

"I'll talk to the cooks." Eldara stood up. "The bath should be ready in fifteen minutes or so," he said pushing the chair back to the table. "A servant will come and lead you there. The toiletries will be ready as well."

Wolfram nodded gratefully. "Thank you." He scratched his head again. "Err… How long, according to the doctor, I should refrain from physical activity?"

"For at least two weeks. Overall, his suggestion was for you to take a month off from everything."

Wolfram looked startled. "A month?" he repeated uncertainly.

"Yes, a month _here_," Eldara said, not without annoyance. "Maybe a month is a little bit too much, but, currently, you are in no condition to travel. It would be just looking for trouble if you did."

Eldara reacted like this every time Wolfram suggested there was something ulterior in his intentions. This made Wolfram think that there was a reason for this sensitivity. Being insulted was not among the reasons Wolfram could come up with.

When the duke had finally left, Wolfram leaned backwards into his pillow and exhaled loudly. For a few moments, he just stayed like this with his eyes closed. Somehow, the pirates had been easier to deal with – he knew where he stood with them. The duke, though… Eldara was hardly older than him, especially for a Human. However, it felt as though they were ages apart. The man was sly and manipulative. This much was clear. The remarkable hospitality he was offering was certainly coming with a handsome price attached. In time, the duke would demand his reward, and it wasn't going to be monetary. It was going to be hard to keep an eye on all the hints so as not to fall into some well-prepared trap of machinations.

There was a knock on the door and Wolfram opened his eyes, startled. He realized he had nodded off. A servant entered. He was saying something but, after Wolfram gave him a lost look, he pointed at the door.

"Baaf," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Ah, yes, my bath. Thank you." How, in the world, was he going to keep an eye on things if he could hardly understand what they were saying? The duke was not going to be in a hurry, either, to find someone who could speak any of the Demon languages.

The servant waited until Wolfram wrapped himself into the bathrobe then led him outside into the corridor. The guard at the door didn't move from his post. His eyes, though, followed Wolfram and the servant until they disappeared behind a corner.

Wolfram was looking around, memorizing where he was being led. He inspected the carpets he was treading on and the tapestries. Curtains, paintings, candlesticks, everything was different. Certainly, there were different things fashionable in Shin Makoku and Kardera. Wolfram was not an expert in fashion, but he thought that it all looked very tasteful. He wondered vaguely whose achievement it was.

A soft baaing drew Wolfram's attention to the room they were passing. The door was open and he could see a cat walking towards them. It caught up quickly and tried to rub itself against Wolfram's legs. He stopped to stroke it and the cat immediately started to purr. It was a beautiful, large animal, obviously male, as Wolfram could see now. Its white fur was neither long nor puffy but it was still silky to the touch.

Wolfram was stroking it until the cat turned his backside to him and sprayed Wolfram's legs with one accurate fountain. Gasping, he jumped back. Mumbling something under his breath, the servant kicked the cat aside. Wolfram inspected his legs. Warm, tiny droplets hung on them. He stared, unsure of his next course of action. He had just gotten pissed on by a cat. He had nothing to wipe his legs off with, only his bare hands. It was good that he was going straight to the baths.

The servant's incessant grumbling roused Wolfram from his dizzy reverie. Wolfram looked at him and suddenly couldn't stop laughing. The look the servant was giving him was also very funny. The man must think he had a screw loose.

Wolfram laughed until he felt like crying. Shivering, he slumped against the expensive tapestry and covered his face with his hands. He realized he was being hysterical but this somehow didn't make things any better.

A touch on his shoulder made Wolfram jerk and lower his hands. He stared at the servant, who was saying something unintelligible. For a few seconds, Wolfram watched him babbling then shrugged indifferently, ending that incessant flow of pointless speech. The servant looked mildly hurt.

Wolfram pushed himself off the wall indicating he wanted to proceed to the baths. It was obvious that the servant didn't think it was a very good idea but he kept silent this time, starting to walk forward again.

There was a guard at the door to the baths. Wolfram nearly burst out laughing again. Now, it was painfully clear why the previous guard hadn't moved from his post. The blond followed the servant into the baths.

There was a large tub right in front of the entrance. However, the swimming pool dominated most of the room. On Wolfram's right, there were two other, smaller, pools with steaming water. A cupboard with open shelves stood between the two of them at the wall and Wolfram walked to it. The shelves were housing rows and rows of varicolored bottles. There were labels on almost every one of them but no matter how hard Wolfram looked, he could not find any label which would at least remotely remind him of the word 'shampoo'. Lost, Wolfram turned to look at the servant, who was obediently standing behind him. The man just motioned at the bottles and smiled at him idiotically. Frowning, Wolfram concentrated on the bottles again.

Finally, Wolfram spotted a familiar blue bottle. After retrieving it, he saw that he had been right – it was the popular shampoo Gunter used. Its smell was somewhat too sweet for Wolfram's taste, but this was better than getting bald from some mysterious liquid. Feeling victorious, Wolfram lowered the bottle down, next to the edge of one of the smaller pools. He grabbed the best-looking bar of soap he could find and then turned to face the servant, who, while Wolfram was searching for shampoo, had enough time to, seemingly, "sprout" a few soft towels and a sponge in his hands.

Wolfram took the towels and the sponge but then his eye caught a mirror on the front wall, just at the entrance. With dread, he walked over to it. However, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw after wiping the steam off. Shocked, Wolfram patted himself on the face. What, in the world, was that huge yellow lump on his forehead? And bags. Gray bags were under his eyes. He had never had bags under his eyes before! And what was with that oily mat of hair on his head? Numbly, Wolfram tugged at his hair. He would be lucky if he succeeded to brush it out sometime in this century. Very likely, he was going to have to cut it short, really short.

Wolfram stared in the mirror then touched his face again. He had always cared and had been sensitive about his looks. Gwendal sometimes teased him about it. But, honestly, now even Gwendal would be horrified at the sight of him.

The blond turned away from the disagreeable mirror and went back to the pool, where his toiletries were waiting. The servant had discreetly retreated to the door, leaving him some privacy, and Wolfram shed his bathrobe. While wrapping the smallest towel around his hips, and then pulling his dirty underwear off, he wondered if there were any prospects of him getting any new clothing tonight. Deciding that, in case there wasn't any, he was going to parade around without underwear, he slid into the pool.

He was aware of the servant's blabbering again. However, as he couldn't understand a thing, except 'baaf' or sometimes 'bieeef', he simply ignored it. It was not hard to do as the water was heavenly. His nervous shivering was lessening as well. Wolfram sat down so that only his head was visible and leaned his back against the wall. He had missed this warmth. It wasn't cold in the guest room he was staying in. In fact, far from it. Yet, it was autumn already and the stony walls of the castle were letting the cool dampness through.

"What, in the world, are you saying?" Wolfram wondered aloud as the servant didn't slow in his incessant blathering. He was pointing to somewhere behind himself. At the mirror, probably. Scratching his head, Wolfram shrugged. He took the sponge from the edge and held it out for the servant. That seemed to work and the flow of words stopped. The man seemed to be uncertain but walked over to the pool and took the sponge from Wolfram. The blond watched the servant rub soap into it. Then, he stood up and turned his back for the man.

It felt good. Wolfram could nearly feel dirt sliding off his skin. It had been more than two months since he had had the luxury of a bath. At the fort, the 'bath-day' was on Sundays. However, there were no bathtubs as such. One just wetted his sponge in a bucket of hot water and rubbed himself with soap. Once done, he would pour the bucket over himself to wash the residual soap off.

The bathhouse was very hot, though, filled with boiling steam and soldiers hitting themselves with bundles of birch twigs. Some leaves would scatter or stick to the sweating bodies. Wolfram found the bathhouse exhausting. It was really not his kind of thing.

The servant was done and Wolfram sat down again. He felt lightheaded with some kind of relief. His muscles were so relaxed that they felt loose, almost watery. The blond leaned his back against the edge of the pool and closed his eyes.

Wolfram spluttered and coughed, water running through his nose and mouth. He flailed his hands instinctively, trying to keep his head out of water. His nose was burning as, instead of getting precious air into his lungs, he could not stop coughing. He could feel someone's hands on him. Wolfram tried to overcome his panic and blink the soapy water out of his eyes. The aggressive voice was spilling a stream of unfamiliar words and the hands didn't let go of him. Wolfram knocked them off and then punched out blindly with his fist. The sound of his madly beating heart in his ears prevented him from hearing a crack.

The blond dragged himself out of the pool. He could finally see the servant hunching on the floor, holding his nose. Blood was dripping through his fingers and onto the tiled floor. Wolfram's right hand groped around until his fingers wrapped around one particularly large bottle of either shampoo or oil. Still coughing so hard that his whole body shook, Wolfram tried to keep his eyes trained on the servant.

He turned to the opening door. That wasn't a very clever thing to do as the servant suddenly was on top of him, trying to wrench the bottle from his fingers. While fighting the man, Wolfram could hear shouting. Someone tried to grab him, but he rolled himself and the servant over. Then he kicked at the nearest leg, sending someone down to the ground.

Wolfram wrestled with the servant until the two of them traded places. Now, Wolfram was keeping him down. The man, who had previously been occupied with the task of wrenching the bottle out of his grasp, now was wriggling fruitlessly, trying to escape. Wolfram pressed his knee against the servant's groin and grinned at him meaningfully. Despite the fact that he must have seemed like something not from this world while coughing and, at the same time, trying to smirk threateningly, the strategy worked. The servant simply stopped, now staring at the blond apprehensively. His weirdly bent nose was still bleeding lightly.

"What are you doing to my servant, Wolfram?"

Keeping a secure hold on the man underneath him, Wolfram turned his head to look at the doorway. The duke was standing there, obviously not amused, only in his night robe and slippers, his long hair strewn out all over the place. Two guards with their swords drawn were at his side.

"He attacked me. Wanted to drown me! But I'm certain you know that!" Wolfram spat. The servant whimpered as Wolfram's knee dug deeper.

Eldara's brow rose a fraction. The blond was delirious; Rigon was loyal and would never do that. Staring at Wolfram, he wondered if the blond realized that the only thing he was wearing was that wet towel which was slipping down his hips. At least, he was facing them.

"Did the steam addle your brains, von Bielefeld? Do you even know what you are accusing me of?"

Eldara finally looked down at his servant, whose pleading eyes had been searching for his for more than a minute already.

Wolfram listened to the unrecognizable prattle that the duke and the servant exchanged. He heard Eldara sigh.

"Let go of him," the duke said.

Wolfram snorted, not even pretending to listen. The servant whimpered at his weight.

"You do realize that you have no choice in the matter, don't you?"

"How about I dismember him?" Wolfram said, smashing the bottle against the tiles.

The servant cried out as glass debris showered the side of his face. Wolfram's shriek surpassed his, though. Eldara watched as the blond cradled his bleeding hand, a few green-colored shards protruding from it. The servant saw his chance and pushed at Wolfram, making him topple backwards, momentarily flashing his goods. Wolfram cursed, his leg swiping under the servant, who had already managed to get on his hands and knees. The man yelped in shock as his chest hit the tiles, barely missing the glass. Wolfram was on him in a second.

The duke's guards surged forward but he motioned for them to stay back. Wolfram had started to glow. They were no match for a full-blooded Demon of Wolfram's caliber. The servant hadn't stood a chance even if against a weakened von Bielefeld.

"Wolfram?" the duke addressed the blond in a soft voice.

"Yes?" Wolfram hissed, his fire element now fluctuating threateningly around him.

"You fell asleep in the pool. Rigon said he had tried to drag you out of water and you went berserk. Why, in the world, didn't you use the prepared tub over there?" Eldara pointed at the tub in the middle of the baths. "He particularly warned you that, in your state, the hot steam is dangerous. Now, if you don't release him, I'm going to charge you with treason against Kardera. And I'll personally execute you while your family watches."

"I must warn you that he's not kidding."

Frowning, Wolfram turned his head to look at a young man who had appeared in the doorway. The man wanted to enter the baths, but the duke bodily blocked the door. He growled something out for the youngster. He was somehow familiar… That voice and the blue hair…

"Athara?"

The blue-haired youth turned to look at Wolfram. With that came the realization that resistance was futile – as far as Wolfram remembered, Athara von Reginald had been one of the strongest newcomer Demons to ever attend the Military Academy. Even if he had been two years behind Wolfram, the blond knew that in his weakened state he was no match for Athara's water element. If they wanted him dead, he would be dead.

Wolfram rolled off the servant. The man scrambled to his fours and shot out the door.

"Well, finally." The duke turned to a handful of soldiers who were flocking outside the baths. "Get Rigon to the nurse," he ordered to one of them. "Tell her to come here with some sedatives after she's done with Rigon." Then he turned back to Wolfram. His eyes settled on the blond's bleeding hand – Wolfram was carefully picking the shards out of his skin; breaking a bottle just right was more difficult than naive youngsters believed. Eldara rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe this was happening; von Bielefeld was a total and complete nutcase.

"I fully expect you to apologize to Rigon," Eldara demanded.

Wolfram chose to simply ignore him. He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling while counting slowly to ten. Wolfram was starting to suspect that the duke hadn't lied about him falling asleep in the pool. The servant had also been mumbling something non-stop. The blond was vaguely aware of Athara's voice floating in the baths. He could not understand what he and the duke were talking about. But, at this moment, the topics were limited. Wolfram chuckled.

"I think he's lost it," Athara said, watching the blond lying on the floor, grinning at the ceiling. "What the hell is wrong with him? Why did he attack Rigon?"

"You!" the duke snapped at his brother, having reached the limits of his patience. "Why are you here? This is dangerous!"

"Wolfram knows me. He knows I'm a serious threat, so he released Rigon. I want to talk to him."

"Oh, yes, of course," Eldara's voice turned into pure silk. "All you're missing are a few burned holes in you. Thank you very much for coming. Now go back!"

"I'm eighteen already and you're still treating me like a six-year-old."

"It's because you act like one!" Eldara growled at him. He raised his hand as Athara's mouth opened with an obviously snappy comeback. "Not now," the duke warned in a voice which made his brother seal his lips.

Athara glared at him. Sometimes, he hated Eldara. "I simply want to talk to him."

"Just leave him alone," the duke answered, his voice losing its sharp edge. He was starting to calm down. "You can talk to him all you wish after he has slept it off. Recently, his life has been difficult; he's too confused right now."

"What are you doing here?"

With a triumphant look in his eyes, Athara turned away from his brother to Wolfram, who now was sitting on the tiles and cradling his hand in his towel-clad lap. The blond's face didn't seem much clearer, though. He looked tired, half-asleep. Athara realized that his brother had been right.

"I live here."

"In Raizgad? With Humans?"

There was a lot of distaste in those words and Athara frowned. "One would think that you would have warmed up to the thought while being engaged to a half-breed for five years!" he spat viciously.

Eldara's eyebrows rose at this. He looked at Athara, who suddenly realized that at the moment his best course of action would be to leave the baths without delay; Eldara looked like he could kill him. The expression on Wolfram's face, though, was much harder to decipher: it was a mix of bitterness, regret, and anger.

Wolfram gritted out, "It has been annulled, the engagement; I _really_ can't get along with Humans after all."

"What? Really? Annulled?"

"Yes, three months ago," Eldara confirmed. "Now, if you have something else to say which would make him go berserk again, don't let me detain you – just spill it all out!"

To his credit, Athara managed to look ashamed.

"You didn't answer my question," Wolfram informed the blue-haired youth moodily.

"_Von Reginald_ was my mother's maiden name before she eloped from Shin Makoku to marry my father," Athara explained. "I don't think that my grandparents were very pleased but they did allow me to borrow the surname to go to the academy. For obvious reasons."

Hazily, Wolfram stared at Athara for a few seconds. Then his eyes, with an obvious question in them, shifted to the duke.

"Yes," Eldara said, "me too. And Halea as well."

This was said in a voice which left no doubts that the duke and his family were not particularly proud of their Demon heritage.

"Ah. Half-Demons. Then it's alright," Wolfram said before slumping over on his side in a heap of limbs.

Athara stared at the blond's half-covered backside in disbelief. "I think he's asleep," he said finally.

"He'd better be."

Tbc


	8. Part 8

**Guest & Raywolf Shibelt**: thank you for your support. Here's more :)

xxxxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 8

"Your Grace, I think I did mention something about him needing rest?"

"Tell that to von Bielefeld." Looking at the doctor, the duke leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers. He stretched his legs out under the desk. "He nearly managed to drown himself in the pool then went berserk, broke Rigon's nose, and then nearly castrated him."

"Oh, really?" the doctor asked in detached interest. "And did the near-drowning happen accidentally?"

Eldara gave the doctor a look. The doctor met his eyes evenly and it was Eldara who lowered them; the doctor knew him all too well.

"Yes, it was an accident."

"Very good, Your Grace. Now, at least, I know that I am not wasting my time with a goner."

Eldara smiled sharply. "So what's wrong with him?" he asked, not wanting to pursue that particular topic.

"I can't say anything about his mental state until I talk to him, Your Grace. My guess, however, would be that he might have experienced a nervous breakdown due to the high stress level and then has become aggressive. Under stress, full-blooded Demons are particularly prone to aggressiveness. It's a defense mechanism." The doctor shrugged. "Well, I'm certain you know that, Your Grace."

"Yes, unfortunately, I know that particularly well. Anything else, Doctor?"

"Well, his physical condition hasn't worsened except for a few bruises and minor injuries to his right hand. I cleaned out the glass shards from it. I think he will be able to use it in a week or so. How did that happen?"

"He broke a bottle, intending to use it as a weapon."

"I see. He's one feisty Demon."

"And that's one too many in my castle," the duke sighed. "I want to get rid of him as soon as possible." The doctor was giving him that look again. "While he is still alive, preferably," Eldara specified. "You heal him as soon as possible and I will ship him off to his dearest brother." He drummed his fingers on the desk. "However, von Bielefeld doesn't put much effort into helping himself out," he pointed out. "It's as if he's trying to prolong his stay."

"His brother… Von Voltaire? The man who's practically ruling Shin Makoku?"

The duke nodded, confirming the unpleasant fact, "Yes, that's von Voltaire."

"What does _he_ think of this, Your Grace?"

"I haven't had the pleasure yet of hearing what he thinks. Unfortunately, he's very fond of von Bielefeld. I expect von Voltaire will send his people in to make sure I treat his little brother with all the respect and dignity he deserves or thinks he deserves."

"Does he, actually?" the doctor wondered. "I haven't had any opportunity to talk to him yet."

"Currently, he's too unbalanced; I can't impart any judgment. He simply struck me as… In fact, he looked like a kid trying to play a man's role. It was quite amusing. However," he added, "I'm afraid that he was playing that role much better than my brother."

The doctor kept quiet. Eldara was too firm and patronizing for his own sake. He knew where it was coming from but one day both Halea and Athara were going to hate him. The duke needed someone else to occupy his time. Right now, all his attention and care were concentrated on his siblings. Eldara, an efficient man, could generate a lot of attention and care, which was not always healthy. The doctor rolled his eyes.

"I saw you do that."

"Very good, Your Grace. I hope you can make something of that."

"And how could my father stand you?"

"He couldn't, in fact, Your Grace. But a pain in the back or a broken bone makes me tolerable."

"Lovely."

"Indeed, Your Grace."

"So, tomorrow at eleven, as usual?"

"Certainly, Your Grace. Good night. Or should I say good morning."

"Goodnight. My coachman will drive you back, of course. Thank you very much for coming," Eldara said, looking out the dark window. It was two in the morning; everyone except for the guards was asleep. The doctor had come as soon as he was summoned. Von Bielefeld had stayed fast asleep the entire time while he had been carried from the bathroom and to his room and while the doctor had been examining him. The man must have been exhausted.

"Oh, right!" the doctor said, turning around on his heel sharply in the doorway. "I almost forgot. He has lice, Your Grace. Tomorrow I will tell the nurse to get something for that. My advice, though, would be he cut that mat of hair. I doubt any comb would be able to deal with the task of combing it out in any case."

"I'll talk to him about this. I'm afraid he's somewhat narcissistic; it will be hard to convince him to cut it."

"Do your best, Your Grace," the doctor said, "or soon you and Halea will be the ones cutting _your_ hair."

Eldara's eyebrows shot up. "If he resists," he said resolutely, "I'll personally tie him up and shave him bald."

"Wonderful, Your Grace. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Doctor."

* * *

><p>Wolfram woke up to the sunlight on his face. He blinked slowly then looked at the window where the curtains were open. The sun was partly hidden behind one of the castle turrets. Was it evening already? Which day was it? The only thing he knew was that he badly wanted to go to the bathroom.<p>

Disoriented, Wolfram sat up in the bed. He startled at the sight of the nurse asleep in a chair in the corner of the room. There was a half-eaten apple on her lap, her fingers wrapped loosely around it. Wolfram looked around. There was no one else in the room. Nothing had changed from the last time he had seen it. There was the same fruit bowl on the large table in the middle of the room. The fruits were different, though, fresh. The table occupied most of the room. There were four chairs at it, just as the table, made of dark oak.

On Wolfram's right side, just beside the bed at the wall, there was a dark oak wardrobe. On the other side of the bed was a night stand, also oaken but of lighter color than the rest of the furniture. On the opposite side of the room, at the wall, stood a gigantic dressing table with a mirror. There were also a few paintings on the walls. The most interesting one was with a shepherd riding a sheep, other sheep following him. The funny thing was that the shepherd looked somewhat like a general riding off into battle, leading his men, his pipe raised like a sword. Wolfram could hardly think of a reason why the painting had been hung here, but it made him nostalgic when he thought back about the villagers at the fort.

The bed linens had been changed as well; he could still smell the soap. The bed was half-covered with a blue spread to keep him warm. Wolfram touched himself on the head. Frowning, he lowered his bandaged hand. His hair was still an oily mess of dirt. Changing the linens for him had been a waste.

Heavy, velvet curtains hung alongside of the window on Wolfram's left. They were dark violet and suddenly, reminded Wolfram of the duke's hair color. Wolfram tried to shove this thought back where it came from. It didn't work and he suddenly was forced to face more of his memories. Embarrassment flooded him like hot lead. He closed his eyes slowly and tried to pretend he didn't exist.

A few minutes later, his bursting bladder and rumbling stomach told him clearly that he did, in fact, exist. Wolfram opened his eyes and climbed out of the bed. By doing that he found out that he was absolutely naked. Not wanting to scare the nurse in case she woke up (however, he suspected that she had not only seen all of his dangly bits already but, as a nurse, had also seen things a lot worse than them), he pulled the blue cover off his bed and wrapped it around his midsection. His slippers were on the rug next to the bed.

Wolfram reached the table in the middle of the room and then the chair where the bathrobe he had used earlier hung. Vaguely, he remembered the duke promising Athara's clothes but maybe, after the circus in the baths, he wasn't entitled to them anymore.

Once dressed, even if it was only a bathrobe, Wolfram felt more confident. Leaving the nurse to sleep peacefully in her chair, he went into the corridor. Two guards there gave Wolfram long worried looks. Then, one said something. Wolfram offered him a bright smile in return and started walking down the corridor to where he knew the bathroom was. There was some hurried feet shuffling behind Wolfram but the guards didn't try to stop him, simply falling into step behind him.

They reached the bathroom, and Wolfram wondered what they would do. But they didn't follow him inside, which Wolfram appreciated immensely. It was warm in the bathroom, which at first surprised the blond. After looking around, though, he noticed a few iron pipes. Central heating was a novelty in Shin Makoku and Gwendal was trying to figure out the best way to implement it into the ancient castle without tearing it apart. It seemed that they were more advanced in Kardera. He couldn't say he liked that.

The mirror made Wolfram shrink away from it again. He touched his yellowish forehead carefully. Then he took a look at his bandaged hand. He flushed red with embarrassment again. The duke didn't like him to begin with. Now the man was going to like him even less.

"Half-Demon, huh?" Wolfram muttered. He wondered how many people knew that. Probably very few, only the closest ones. This was a valuable piece of information.

There was no blood in his urine this time, and he was relieved that he, at least, wouldn't need to think about _this_ problem. That kick to his groin had been unbelievably painful, and he had fretted that there might be some permanent damage. Men who did that to other men should die.

Wolfram blinked at the washbasin while trying to figure out how to wash his left hand while his right was bandaged; _that_ man probably did. The duke did say that they were going to be hanged. Wolfram decided he wasn't going to think about that.

The blond left the bathroom and headed back to his room. He reached the corridor where his room was, crossed half of the carpeted floor then suddenly staggered. He was taken aback by how the corridor suddenly expanded in his vision. He heard the guards say something. Then, one of them caught him before he slumped to the floor. Wolfram found himself staring up at a bearded face. The guard said something to him again, and Wolfram shook his head, indicating he didn't understand him. He regretted the action as it made him even dizzier.

The blond wanted to protest when the guard lifted him and started carrying towards his room. However, even if his pride hurt, he realized the pointlessness of that – he would not be able to walk on his own.

When they entered the room, the nurse woke up with a start, jumped to her feet, and rushed over to them. The blond could hear the apple thumping to the floor and rolling over it. She followed the guard to the bed where he lowered Wolfram. He stayed beside the bed while the nurse fussed around the blond.

In fact, Wolfram felt fine, only somewhat dizzy. He didn't really understand what was going on. The nurse was asking something but he couldn't understand a thing she was saying.

"She asked you when it was last time you ate."

Wolfram turned to the door to see Eldara approaching.

"Oh…" The blond blinked at him. He suddenly realized how absurd it all was; he had fainted from hunger. "Oh…" he repeated. He was supposed to have eaten yesterday, but then the incident in the baths…

"Have a light snack. Don't overeat, though, or you'll be sick. And later, you are welcome to join us at the dinner table."

Wolfram squirmed uncomfortably on the sheets. "Thank you. I'm very sorry for t-"

The duke raised his hand to quiet him down. He found it ridiculous that a man in a sickbed was trying to apologize. The blond had no idea how pitiful he looked lying there helplessly with ghastly pale skin, a bandaged hand, and knotted and lice-infested hair.

"If you apologize to Rigon, I will consider it never happened."

The blond watched him thoughtfully. This was a test again. It seemed that, with the duke, every little thing was a test. The duke wanted to see if he would indeed apologize to a servant. The problem was that Wolfram didn't know which outcome would please the duke. He felt that it was not wise to disappoint the man while he was under his protection.

The blond nodded. "I will."

"Splendid," Eldara said. He motioned the wardrobe next to the bed. "The clothing is there. Choose anything you wish."

"Thank you."

"There is one matter, though," the duke said, making Wolfram tense up. "It would be best if you cut your hair."

"Why?" Wolfram asked, at once feeling protective of his hair. People often complimented his hair. Even Yuuri had complimented it.

"You have lice. Besides, it is doubtful you will be able to brush it out." By the way the blond was staring at him with a horrified look on his face, Eldara realized that this was probably first time Wolfram had lice.

"Lice?" Wolfram repeated numbly. "I have lice?"

"Mm… Yes?" He didn't understand why the blond was so shocked about this. Indeed, the man was narcissistic to his bones. "Simply cut it short. It will grow back in no time."

Wolfram touched his hair. It did feel unpleasant, the entangled and oily mass. He was going to have to cut it, wasn't he? Then Wolfram returned to his previous thought: Yuuri had complimented his hair, hadn't he? The blond was suddenly overcome with bitterness. Why was it that he still tried to cater to Yuuri?

"No problem," Wolfram said. "I'll cut it as soon as I eat. I wouldn't want to spread them around," he added after the duke gave him a somewhat surprised look. It was obvious that the man hadn't expected him to give in so easily.

"Very well. I'll inform my barber."

The duke left, and Wolfram found himself staring at the ceiling. He still felt weakness in his limbs and just lay on his back while listening to the nurse discussing something with one of the servants. Later the voices broke off, and he heard the door close as the servant hurried off to fulfill the orders he had been given.

"Could have been worse," Wolfram muttered. His eyes kept roaming over the ceiling. He could have been killed or tortured. He could have been sold or raped. Or everything at once could have happened. In comparison to that, waking up in Kardera was a gift from above. Wolfram wondered briefly if there was another room above the ceiling and who lived there. The duke wasn't an unpleasant man, he was simply…forceful. Wolfram wasn't very good with people like that. Gwendal was forceful, maybe even more than Eldara, but Gwendal was his brother and he was sometimes allowed the luxury of telling Gwendal to shove it where the sun does not shine. It wouldn't work with the duke.

Wolfram grinned at the ceiling imagining the duke's face. Maybe he should try that. Just to see the reaction.

"Ah, I see Your Highness is in a good mood."

The blond turned his head to look at a man who had just entered the room.

"I'm Roldan Efibus, your doctor, Sir."

"Pleased to meet you. Thank you for taking care of me."

Approaching the bed, the doctor nodded in answer. "I hear Sir fainted today?"

"Yes. That was probably because I haven't been having regular meals for quite some time."

"Well, yes, that would definitely do that, Sir."

Wolfram took a more careful look at the doctor. The man had the face of a hard-working man, maybe of a friendly coacher, but there was also something about it suggesting that he liked using a whip on his horses as well.

"You are His Grace's personal doctor, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir. It could be put like that. In general, I look after the health of von Ashira household."

The whip must be handy: Wolfram could imagine that it took three men and five horses to keep the duke down in bed even when he was fevered.

"Does Sir experience any pains, discomfort?"

"Mmm… No, not really."

"What about Sir's head? Any spells of dizziness, headache?"

"No, not anymore."

"Was there any blood in Sir's water?"

Wolfram blanched at this. "No, today there wasn't any and it doesn't hurt anymore," he said, putting into his answer all information he could manage so that the doctor wouldn't need to ask him anything else.

Under normal circumstances, the doctor would have asked for permission to examine him, but the way the blond tensed up suddenly, made him change his mind. The young von Bielefeld didn't feel secure and, keeping in mind the incident in the baths, right now it was better not to push him into anything he didn't want.

Both of them turned to look at the door as there was a brief knock and then the servant whom Wolfram had seen hurrying off to fulfill the nurse's instructions entered. He was carrying a tray. The blond's heart rate suddenly sped up, and his stomach rumbled. Saliva flooded his mouth and only then did he realize that all this time he had really been starving.

"Don't eat much and chew well, Sir," the doctor warned after catching the feral look on the blond's face.

Wolfram nodded quickly. He was already climbing out of the bed, his ravenous eyes following the tray's journey from the door to the large table in the middle of the room. He took a seat in front of a bowl of wondrously aromatic soup. Wolfram wanted to lift the plate and drink it at once like an uncouth hic. However, the presence of three people in the room forced Wolfram to pick up the spoon and take it slow. And he took it slow, frustratingly slow, as he wasn't able to use his right hand.

It tasted heavenly. He chewed thoroughly on small pieces of potatoes, chicken, and noodles. It was pure bliss. He finished the bowl and wanted more but there was nothing else on the tray. Wolfram's hungry eyes went to the large fruit bowl on the table but the doctor's voice made him turn away from it.

"In a few minutes Sir will feel as if he has eaten a horse; I suggest Sir leaves that bowl of fruit alone."

With one last look at the fruits, filled with longing, Wolfram left the table and went back to bed. He didn't feel like he had eaten a horse, but, true enough, soon he felt full and sleepy.

He woke up to the sound of someone whispering. However, there was no one in the room when he looked around. It was just heavy rain chattering and falling down the window. It was hard to tell which time of day it was. Wolfram realized he had slept through the dinner he had been invited to. There was not much guilt, though; the duke would surely understand. Besides, it was not as if he had wanted to go – every time he met the man, there was always some kind of trial presented to him.

Wolfram turned to his side to stare at the flowing rain. Soon it was going to start snowing in Kardera. Winter would always come to Kardera almost two weeks earlier than to Shin Makoku. He didn't like winters, neither did he particularly like summers. He liked springs and autumns but, even then, he liked them only when it wasn't too cold or too hot or too rainy.

"Hmm…"

Gwendal was right – he was unbelievably hard to please.

Wolfram looked at his bandaged hand. The doctor had said nothing about it, thus it was probably going to be alright. Served him right. He touched his hair. He still needed to cut it and put himself in order. If he had to go and join the whole von Ashira family at dinner, he had to look presentable.

Even if that meant he was going to have to wear the duke's younger brother's clothing, and, at the same time, try not to spill anything on it while eating with his left hand.

Wolfram groaned softly. However, the prospective indignity was soon drowned out by his rumbling stomach. He was hungry and wanted to go to the bathroom. He chose to go to the bathroom first.

There were two different guards at his door this time; the watch change must have transpired while he had been asleep. The guards were unnerved by him but followed him mutely. Obviously, they had been informed that it was pointless to talk to him as he couldn't understand.

When Wolfram returned to his room, he saw that nothing had changed; there was still no one there. It seemed he had been forgotten. He sat down at the table and ate three different fruits. Feeling full, he rose and went to inspect the wardrobe. Just as the duke had said, it was filled with clothes. They were a little too glittery for Wolfram's taste as he was more used to plain uniforms and shirts but beggars couldn't be choosers. However, he couldn't help thinking that his taste in clothing ran closer to the older von Ashira's than his brother's.

Wolfram picked a shirt and a pair of trousers that he preferred and closed the wardrobe door. He wanted to take a bath again and to cut his hair. He wasn't certain which should come first.

"Oh."

The blond turned his head to the door to see the nurse enter the room. She had come in without knocking but Wolfram dismissed this as her not wanting to wake him up in case he was still asleep.

Wolfram pointed at his head then took a handful of his matted hair and tried to scissor with his bandaged fingers. His attempt was rewarded with sharp pain. He winced and frowned but the nurse nodded her head in understanding and opened the door to say something to one of the guards. She returned into the room and took her usual seat in the corner.

Feeling self-conscious, the blond sat down on the bed to wait. He was suddenly caught in a bout of itch. He was scratching his head furiously, when he suddenly remembered why exactly he was scratching it. Disgusted, he removed his hand. The nurse smiled at him encouragingly. That only made it worse as Wolfram wasn't certain what she was encouraging him to do. To scratch a hole through his head? He returned an awkward smile.

Goddamn that Eldara! Couldn't he finally find someone who could speak at least a garbled Shin Makoku dialect? Anyone would do!

After about ten minutes of uncomfortable waiting, there was a knock on the door and a man, whom Wolfram deemed to be a barber, entered the room.

"Your hair, Sir, cut?" he asked or stated, lowering a bundle of something that jingled on the table.

Wolfram nodded and walked over to him.

"Sir, short cut hair?"

"Yes, short cut hair," Wolfram answered and immediately was overtaken by immense feeling of guilt; just a minute ago he had been begging for anyone who could at least utter a few words in any dialect. "Yes, please, cut it short," he corrected himself. It was obvious that the word order differed in the two languages. At least the man was making an effort.

Only then did the barber seem to notice the hairy entangled mass on Wolfram's head. He appeared to be aghast but recovered in a second. He pulled one of the chairs farther off the table and showed Wolfram to sit down. When he did, the barber eyed the heap of dirty and infested blond hair again.

"Short cut hair, alright, Sir?" he said, a little unsure.

"Yes. Just cut it."

Wolfram watched puffs of entangled hair fall on the cover on his lap. There were an awful lot of them. He poked one particularly big and greasy. Take that, Yuuri. Maybe he should shave his head bald?

Wolfram shuddered at the thought. Even Yuuri wasn't worth such sacrifice.

"Finish," said the barber about twenty minutes later.

"Thank you."

His head felt much lighter. Interested, Wolfram patted himself on the head. He grimaced both at the startling shortness and greasiness. The barber deserved a reward for working in such drastic conditions. Only that currently Wolfram was as poor as a temple mouse and could only give promises.

It took Wolfram some time to explain to the nurse what he wanted next. In the end, the barber joined him and, in a few minutes, the blond had a bottle of lice killing shampoo in his hands. He was also informed of a few instructions of its usage.

"Tub baths in ten minutes," the barber interpreted the nurse's prattle.

Wolfram nodded to show that he had understood and sat down to wait. The barber didn't seem to be going anywhere. Maybe he was waiting for his general approval on his job well done? Wolfram didn't particularly want to look at himself right now, but decided to get on with it and went to the wardrobe. The mirror was on the other side of the door.

"Ugh," he said at the sight of himself. Realizing how that sounded, he squeezed out a smile and clapped himself on the head a few times in what should have passed as content pats.

The barber gave him a fearful look, gathered his tools and rushed out of the room with a very polite goodbye. Wolfram was aware that he didn't manage to fool anyone. Short. His hair was very short. It was also oily and stuck to his head like a glove. He looked like a drowned rat. Yes, definitely a rat with a yellowish bump on its forehead.

Wolfram closed the door and decided to pretend he hadn't seen anything. Otherwise, he might just go hysterical again.

Tbc


	9. Part 9

**Emiko hime-sama**: Thanks for your comment :) Well, I suppose Kyou Kara Maou! Is not as popular as before, so there aren't as many readers as it used to be.

It will be a very long time before Wolfram returns to Shin Makoku. Many things will happen before that. Yuuri also has to realize how exactly he feels about Wolfram, and it's tricky while they can't see each other. Or maybe it's the opposite – the distance makes heads clearer and hearts fonder.

**Mofalle**: Wolfram's hair will grow back in a few months. I like the length of his hair in the anime but lice is lice, we can't have Wolfram spreading those uglies around.

Well, there's not so much action in this fanfic, it's more about relationships. Hopefully, if you liked the few last chapters, you'll like the rest too :)

**Raywolf Shibelt & Alicia Spinet & Belldandy55555**: thanks, and here's more :)

xxxxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20. Eldara – 31. Halea – 20. Athara – 18.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 9

The shampoo had an unpleasant smell and Wolfram was frowning while rubbing it into his hair. When he was done, he sat down on a bench to wait for ten minutes. This time, no servant went to the baths with him, and he was blissfully alone. He would have enjoyed it if not for the knowledge that nobody followed him. He was certain that the servants in the household were of the opinion that he was a dangerous nutcase.

They were probably right.

Sighing, Wolfram patted himself on his head. He wished for the little bastards to die faster.

After washing his hair, he climbed into the tub which had been prepared for him. This time, he didn't even think about using one of the pools. Wincing and gritting his teeth in pain, he unwrapped the bandages off his right hand and threw them onto the floor. It wasn't a pleasant sight, his hand: his fingers and palm had been cut in many places, the gashes red and swollen. He would not be able to wield a sword for some time. He was also too weak to use his fire element efficiently.

Wolfram reclined his head and closed his eyes. It seemed that he had to completely rely on the duke's protection. Not that he believed there was any danger to him in the castle. His thoughts were much clearer now and he understood how his accusation and actions had been uncalled for. The man didn't like him, but one could not afford to be enemies with Shin Makoku. Gwendal von Voltaire wasn't someone you wanted to mess around with.

He would have liked some assistance – it took him awhile to wash himself with one hand. Washing his hair had already been a feat in itself. It took him some skill to dress in his bathrobe without aggravating his right hand too much.

When Wolfram walked back to his room, he found a man standing at the door, near the guards. It was a Human of about fifty; brown-haired, his forehead and the top of his head were already marked by an early loss of hair. When Wolfram came closer, the man bowed.

"Your Highness."

"Yes? Hello," Wolfram said, brushing over his damp hair with a towel. It was awkward to stand on the carpet in front of the door in only a bathrobe and slippers while the guards and the man were staring at him.

"I'm Ahezi Forena, Sir. Your interpreter."

"Oh." It was a surprise actually. Wolfram had been certain that he would have to go around without one at least for two more weeks. He nodded. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Sir."

Ahezi was nervous. Wolfram could see that. He wondered what kind of myths the servants had created about him. Or, maybe, it was something the duke had said.

"I will dress myself and then we will discuss everything," Wolfram said, opening the door to his room. "I'd like to dress alone, if you please," he added when the interpreter wanted to follow him. The man gave him a confused look then blushed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Sir!" he exclaimed anxiously.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Wolfram muttered shutting the door behind himself.

Even though it took a great deal of grunting and wincing, Wolfram somehow managed to dress. He looked at himself in the mirror. It wasn't that bad. His hair had almost dried already and wasn't sticking to his head so much (the short haircut was making him look even younger but Wolfram wasn't so certain that it was a bad thing). The green jacket and black trousers did glitter but they also made the yellowish spot on his forehead less noticeable. He couldn't see but could feel the underwear that wasn't his. It wasn't very comfortable – it was too loose and drafty. He knew he was only imagining things but habits were habits. It was first time he was wearing someone else's underwear. He hoped it would also be the last.

Wolfram went to open the door and invited Ahezi inside. They sat down at the table where the interpreter told the blond that he had been put up in one of the rooms in the castle and was going to be at his service at any time during his stay.

The knock on the door startled Wolfram; he had almost forgotten the sound. He gave the permission to enter and the duke walked into the room. Eldara met the sight of the interpreter sitting next to Wolfram with approval. He nodded at Ahezi then turned to the blond. If he thought anything of Wolfram's considerably shorter hair, his face didn't show it.

"Would you care to join us for lunch, Wolfram?"

"Well, yes…"

The uncertain manner of the blond's answer made the duke notice the way he favored his hand, keeping it slightly away from himself and how the interpreter was inconspicuously sniffing the air. Wolfram had just taken a bath and, suddenly, Eldara was suspicious that no one had attended to him. That made him furious. It wouldn't do anyone, especially when that "anyone" was a von Bielefeld, saying that he was an unwelcoming host.

"Where's Mela?"

"Mm… Who?"

"The nurse," the duke specified.

Wolfram saw Eldara looking at his hand, and the displeasure in the duke's lower than usual voice and eyes told Wolfram that the nurse was out of favor. He wasn't certain what happened when one was out of the duke's favor. It was probably best not to know.

"I don't know," he said, without any desire to interfere with a master's relationship with his servant. "She was here just before I went to the baths." Wolfram hoped that the woman would at least bring some tea with her when she returned. Then he thought that he could have easily avoided all this by saying that she had excused herself to go to the bathroom. But it was too late now.

The duke gave Wolfram a look and, with that, the nurse, carrying a tray with what seemed to be swathes and ointments, entered the room. She curtsied and went to lay it down onto the table then turned to Wolfram, and said something.

"She will treat and bandage your hand, Sir," the interpreter translated quickly.

Wolfram sat down at the table, not missing the approving nod the duke gave Ahezi for translating the sentence. Eldara watched the nurse's gentle fingers spreading the ointment over the blond's injured hand for a few seconds, then, deciding that there was nothing of interest, turned his attention back to the interpreter.

"You don't need to attend lunch," he said to the translator. "It is in fifteen minutes." His words now were directed at Wolfram. "You really don't need to worry about your awkward left hand or the smelly ointment in your hair; we've certainly seen worse. Now, if you'd excuse me."

Not certain how to take this, Wolfram watched the duke exit the room. Were these the words of encouragement or was the duke laughing at him? The interpreter, however, had had a revelation – now he knew what it was in the room which stank so much. Then Wolfram became aware that he could hear the duke's soft reprimanding voice behind the door as he was talking to the guards.

* * *

><p>From across the table, Wolfram smiled at Halea politely. He was somewhat suspicious of the seating arrangement but it wasn't that he disliked it – it was certainly better than to be seated opposite the duke.<p>

"So how are you feeling, Wolfram?" Athara asked while one of the servants was filling his plate with what looked like fried fish in a rich, reddish sauce.

"Thank you, much better," Wolfram answered thinking that if he was so interested, he should have just come and visited him in his room. Then, he thought that the duke probably hadn't permitted that for the safety reasons. "I'm very sorry for that incident in the baths. I wasn't myself."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Athara said, waving it off dismissively with his hand.

"Yes, forget it," Halea said. "You should see Eldara in the mornings," she chuckled. "In comparison to that, you…"

Wolfram became aware that she didn't know how to finish her thought as she suddenly realized that she could easily insult him by choosing wrong words. Halea's lapse was immediately corrected by the duke clearing his throat and raising his glass of wine to toast him.

"All's well that ends well. Isn't that right, Wolfram?"

The blond nodded and raised his glass as well to salute him. "Certainly, Eldara." The duke's name felt so alien on his tongue that he nearly winced.

The duke noticed his reaction and laughed softly. He was aware of the fact that, in Shin Makoku, the tradition of using the last name for elder people was prevalent. "You make me feel old," he chuckled, taking a sip from his glass.

"Ah, I didn't mea-" Wolfram started.

"Well, you _are_ older," Halea said. "By eleven years, to be exact. You're twenty, Wolfram, aren't you? As me."

The surprise was great and Wolfram didn't manage to hide it. He realized that Halea had intended to make him feel better but, instead, he was astonished. All this time, he had believed that Eldara was only a couple of years older than him. Certainly, it didn't make any difference in the long run, but there was a huge difference when one was twenty and the other thirty-one.

"I am half-Human, Wolfram," the duke reminded him, surprised by Wolfram's surprise.

If they were in Shin Makoku, he would definitely have said "half-Demon". Wolfram wondered how the fact had somehow slipped past his perception. He had known and he hadn't. It was, very likely, the result of his ungodly state in the baths at the time when he had been given the details.

"Well, yes, I did," Wolfram agreed. "It had somehow escaped me."

Wolfram had the same fish Athara had been eating and then ate a bowl of lentil soup. He liked the food. He guessed that the menu had been specially adapted to him: there was no food on the table which was hard to digest and there weren't any extravagant dishes. He was grateful for that.

It was a little awkward, the atmosphere at the lunch table. Ironically, that was probably because Halea was trying so hard to make him feel welcome. The duke seemed to be amused by her attempts while Athara watched her with evident surprise in his eyes.

After lunch, the blond returned to his room to rest. He felt much better but it had still required a lot of energy to attend lunch. It hadn't been as bad as he had imagined. He lay down on the bed intending to close his eyes for a few minutes but, when he woke up, it was evening already.

Confused, Wolfram looked around. Then, when the sound repeated itself, he realized that he had been awakened by a knock at the door.

"Yes?" he croaked groggily, rubbing at his face.

"It's Roldan Efibus."

"Who?"

"Your doctor, Your Highness."

"Oh, right. Come in," Wolfram said, a little embarrassed for not remembering the name.

"And how does Sir feel today?" the doctor asked. He walked over to the bed, lowered his case to the floor. It was dark in the room. The blond was sitting on the bed, obviously, just awakened. "We'll need more light, Sir. I will ask someone to light the candles, may I?"

The blond nodded, yawning. "I'm much better. I got a little tired during lunch and then dozed off."

On his way to the door, the doctor's steps slowed down. He turned around to look at the blond. "Sir can refuse to attend meals. Spending time in His Grace's presence can be stressful," he added carefully after Wolfram gave him an uncertain look. "Sir can always say He is still not feeling well."

Without saying a word, the blond shook his head. The doctor shrugged and continued walking towards the door. He opened the door and asked one of the guards to bring something so that there would be more light in the room.

"Thank you for the advice," Wolfram said when the doctor returned, "but I had a good time." He was exaggerating a great deal but he wasn't going to admit anything.

"I see. Does Sir have any complaints?" the doctor asked. "Bouts of dizziness, any pains, headaches?"

"No. I feel a little weak, but no dizziness or pain."

"Very good, Sir." It seemed that von Bielefeld's health was improving fast. He was sleeping a lot but that was to be expected after physical and mental exhaustion. Sleep was also the reason why he was getting better so quickly. It was also, probably, time to press the youngster with more private matters. "No red water as far as I understood?"

"Err… No. Everything seems to be fine."

"No pains? No erectile dysfunction? Can Sir get an erection?" the doctor asked in explanatory tone when it was obvious from Wolfram's blank face that he wasn't certain what the doctor meant.

"I don't know," the blond answered after a pause. Even in the near darkness the doctor could see that von Bielefeld became concerned. All men reacted very sensitively to anything which had at least something to do with potency.

There was a knock on the door and a servant entered holding a burning candlestick in his hand. The candles and two oil lamps flared to life.

"There shouldn't be permanent damage, Sir," the doctor continued when the servant had left, "but it would be better to make certain that everything's alright."

"What? Right now?" Wolfram asked, incredulous, when the doctor just kept silent and kept on giving him an insistent look.

The doctor was tempted to tell him that they could wait for a few years and then see if it hadn't rotten and fallen off by that time, but, instead, only gave a short encouraging smile.

"Yes. And I won't touch anything, Sir," he said when von Bielefeld moved away from him cautiously to the farther corner of the bed. He turned his back to the blond.

Wolfram grimaced at the doctor's back. Then, seeing how he was left no choice, stood up and started unbuckling his belt. He more or less trusted the doctor, but also knew that he reported every tiny detail to the duke. And, as much as Wolfram didn't want to be impotent, he also didn't want the duke to know that.

He pulled his trousers and underwear down and sat down onto the bed. He took a look at his limp disinterested self nestling passively among blond curls. He didn't remember getting an erection since he had been kicked in the groin. It didn't even appear in the mornings. Maybe at night… Overtaken by a sudden bout of panic, Wolfram fisted himself and started stroking. It felt awkward to do it with his left hand, clumsy somehow. Nothing happened at first. Then, it began to stiffen and the blond exhaled in relief, his shoulders sagging.

"Everything's fine," he announced the results to the doctor, who, hearing his reassured voice, smiled at the opposite wall.

"That's splendid, Your Highness."

Momentarily, burning redness spread over Wolfram's face and he quickly pulled his underwear and trousers on. Wolfram read more in the doctor's voice: the fact that he was able to get an erection didn't mean yet that he was able to orgasm and deposit seed. It was also a fact that he was going to try and see later if everything was functioning normally.

"What about eating, Sir? Any problems with digestion?" the doctor asked when the blond gave a sign that it was safe to turn around.

"No, no problems at all."

"Very well. May I take a look at your forehead, Sir?"

"Yes, of course."

Wolfram grunted painfully when the doctor's fingers prodded at the yellowish lump. The doctor hadn't been certain but now was assured that the skull underneath had been cracked. It would have been a guaranteed death for a Human. He removed his hand while watching the tension drain from the blond's shoulders. He turned Wolfram's head towards the oil lamp on the bedside cabinet and examined his eyes. Both of his pupils were of nearly the same size already. One could hardly notice the difference. The emerald-green eyes also were able to focus on and follow his fingers without failing.

"I'm glad to say that Sir's health is improving at a very fast pace."

Wolfram's face brightened considerably. "And I'm certainly glad to hear that."

Soon, after the doctor had left, the duke visited Wolfram asking if he would like to have dinner with him and his family. It was clear to Wolfram how it would come across if he refused; the doctor must have already assured the duke that he was in perfect health condition to attend it.

Sleeping with his clothes on gave them a few creases, but it was nothing too noticeable, and, after a couple of tentative glances at himself in the mirror and a visit to the bathroom, Wolfram went to attend dinner.

He had already noticed the additional attention the servants were giving during lunch. But, now, they were even sharper looking and, as soon as he asked for his plate to be filled with salad, two of the three hurried to him almost head-butting each other out of the way.

When Wolfram compared the servants to those in Blood Pledge Castle, here they were much more constrained, every command from their masters was fulfilled without any questions or delay. The tradition in Blood Pledge Castle was somehow not so strict. The servants served there all their lives and, then, their children undertook the task. Hence, everybody knew everybody and the master-servant relationships were much warmer.

In the middle of the dinner, a servant was sent to the kitchen to get more gravy. The gravy boat soon appeared in the door but it was carried by a different servant, and Wolfram suddenly knew where the catch was; it was the same servant he had unreasonably attacked in the baths. His nose was still black and blue. The duke expected him to apologize now, in front of everybody, even the servants. For a moment, he felt angry with the duke – couldn't the man give him a break? But then he thought that, having promised to apologize and not done so, he probably, more or less, deserved that.

The servant carefully lowered the gravy boat onto the table then Wolfram stood up and called the servant's name to get his attention. The man gave him a startled look.

"I offer my most sincere apologies for attacking you back then, in the baths. I hope I didn't cause much damage. If I can be of any help…" he left it hanging hopefully.

The duke translated the words to the servant, who, then, started to fidget, obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable. He gave the blond a troubled smile, and words started pouring out of his mouth.

"He says it's alright," Eldara said to Wolfram. "He knows it hasn't been done purposefully."

The apology went smoother than Eldara had expected. He also hadn't expected that von Bielefeld would take the servant's appearance as a cue to apologize. It was probably better that he had, making the matter finally done and over with. The duke looked at the blond where he was giving the salad in his plate his full attention. He seemed to be hungry. The doctor had warned him about this – von Bielefeld's appetite was going to increase and he would be continuously plagued by lethargy. Wolfram was unbelievably tenacious. Even the doctor was impressed at such a quick recovery rate. Were there a Human in his place, he would have died at least three times already: the hit to his head, which had cracked his skull would have been first; a Human wouldn't have managed to reach the shore, then, when the pirates had been escaping; any other would have died of pneumonia after spending so much time in the ice-cold sea. Demons were creepy and dangerous.

"Is there any news from Shin Makoku?" Wolfram asked.

Eldara shook his head. "No, not yet. The sea has been stormy these past two days and the weather forecast is the same for tomorrow. But we should expect the news to reach us this week."

"Actually, which weekday is it today?" Wolfram asked.

"It's Wednesday," Athara said.

Wolfram reached his hand out for the bowl of fruit on the table. Then, he gave a startled look to the servant who had raced to the table and grabbed the bowl, holding it out for him. Wolfram, whose hand now was stretched out past the bowl, laughed softly. He took an apple and leaned back into his chair.

* * *

><p>The other two days were very similar to the previous one: he breakfasted, lunched, and had dinner with the whole von Ashira family. Most of other times he slept, had his hand tended to, washed his hair with the stinky liquid for lice again, bathed, had a few challenging conversations with the duke, and a few awkward ones with his sister. The interaction with Halea drove him into the corner as he felt it was his fault that they somehow couldn't find common grounds. She did her best to choose neutral, light topics, but he still found himself being drained and soon could only think about what to say next. As a man, he felt disappointed in himself.<p>

Athara, the youngest in von Ashira family, didn't pay him much attention: he was polite, maintained the necessary level of conversation, asked about his health but never more. Athara kept his distance. But Wolfram, more or less, knew the type thanks to his days from studying at the Military Academy. Athara was trouble, a pure, walking trouble, and Wolfram tried to stay away from him as well.

Indeed, they received a letter from Shin Makoku on Saturday evening. The duke, so that there would be no suspicions on von Bielefeld's side, asked him to come to his study to be present when the letter was opened. At his entrance to the study, Wolfram watched Eldara twirl the letter between his fingers. There was the Shin Makoku King's seal on it. The duke seemed to be amused, and Wolfram knew why: Eldara had sent a letter to Gwendal von Voltaire and, now, had received a reply from the Demon King Himself.

"He believes I have you chained to a wall," the duke said matter-of-factly, while Wolfram was seating himself in a chair opposite his desk. "In my dungeons," he added for good measure, breaking the seal. He couldn't really blame the man – his reputation gave von Voltaire enough grounds to suspect him of such. Wolfram, however, didn't know and didn't need to know that. "I am certain that he is going to send an army of servants to cater to your needs," Eldara said, unfolding the letter.

Wolfram started to get annoyed by the unceasing flow of cynicism. "Well, they would at least be able to understand me."

The duke nodded. "Yes, besides, you can also beat them up all to your heart's content."

Wolfram was shocked that Eldara mentioned that; he had believed it had been over with his apology. But the duke held his gaze calmly. Wolfram's eyes flashed in anger. "It was an accident!"

"And it makes it alright?"

Wolfram was short of grabbing Eldara and shaking him for good measure. The duke became aware that he had overstepped the line. He liked teasing the blond but too much was too much.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"Just read the damn letter, Eldara!" Wolfram snarled at him, now painfully aware that it was only a game to the duke. He made it his business to turn every word into a battle of wills. Wolfram was also annoyed with himself for reacting so intensively to anything he said and playing into the duke's hand.

The duke gave the blond a look. He suddenly felt compelled to tell von Bielefeld that the current haircut looked much better on him than the one he remembered seeing a few months ago. He looked sharper, more masculine. Saying that now, however, would only result in von Bielefeld getting suspicious of his words and taking them as an insult.

"Right." The duke concentrated on the letter. "If the sea is benevolent," he read, "they are going to be here in six days. Otherwise, they will have to wait for better weather."

"Who's '_they_'?" Wolfram asked.

"Your suite, apparently." Eldara read further then lowered the letter onto the desk. "Congratulations, Wolfram. Your King gave you the status of the Royal Emissary. You are here to express His Royal Will."

Wolfram stared at a very amused Eldara. "His Royal Will of what?" he asked, feeling like laughing as well; Gwendal and Yuuri were just too much.

The duke chuckled softly. "I'm afraid it doesn't say here. You'll have to figure that out on your own." He pushed the letter over the desk for Wolfram to read it. "Your best shot would be that His Royal Will is for both countries to start a sea trading route. Or something like that at any rate. I can arrange a few meetings with merchants."

"I think I'll just wait for my suite to arrive," Wolfram muttered absentmindedly, reading the letter; it was all just like the duke had read to him. "I'm not that good at trading. I wouldn't want you to take advantage of that." He folded the letter and returned it to Eldara.

"Now, now, Wolfram. I would definitely not take any advantage of you." He could see that von Bielefeld hardly managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes. "How many of them do you think there will be?" Eldara asked.

Wolfram gave him a searching look. The duke's right eyebrow rose at him. Wolfram wished he were more experienced, more cunning. He was out of his depths here.

"Don't be so suspicious, Wolfram. I just want to make sure there are enough rooms for everyone. Do you really believe I would go against your brother? It would be foolish to make an enemy of him."

"It would be," Wolfram agreed. He knew, however, that this would be a good opportunity to start war; he could be a perfect hostage. It didn't even depend on Eldara. If the King of Kardera gave his orders, the Duke of Raizgad could do nothing but obey.

Wolfram sighed. "There will probably be ten or twelve people. All male, in heavy armor, and trained to kill. No servants."

Impressed, the duke rubbed his chin then lowered his hands to the desk. "Well, who can blame him? You're his youngest brother," he said, shrugging. "Family always comes first for von Voltaire."

"Yes, that's for certain," Wolfram agreed.

"His family is his only weakness, isn't it?"

Wolfram shrugged lightly. "Probably." _It's your weakness, too_, the blond thought.

Tbc


	10. Part 10

**lariqueniasexiboricua90**: thanks :)

**alguien22792** & **Raywolf Shibelt**: Yep, Eldara and Wolfram are slowly warming up to each other. There will also be an accident which will bring them even closer :)

**Alicia Spinet**: Sending Gisela over is a very good idea. I wonder why I didn't send her… Maybe I thought it would be an insult to the duke's household and hospitality? Not even sure, maybe I just forgot Gisela existed, which is, most likely, what happened XD Well, I hope you won't be disappointed – there will still be some familiar faces amongst the suite.

**Zafira**: smagu, kad patinka

xxxxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20. Eldara – 31. Halea – 20. Athara – 18.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 10

The sentimental melody which was coiling and spreading from under the harpist's fingers was lulling Wolfram to sleep. He kept reminding himself that he couldn't do that as Halea had specially invited the musician to entertain him. Wolfram turned and smiled at Halea, trying to adapt the expression of utter bliss on his face. Judging by how she looked at him, he had a feeling he wasn't very successful. Never before had he needed to act so much, and, unfortunately, every little lie he tried to tell with his face was easily seen through.

Halea, though, didn't seem to mind his little faux pas and turned away, slowly sinking back into the music's romantic embrace. The harpist's nimble fingers were filling Wolfram's vision when he began to wonder if his spending so much time with Halea was appropriate. The blond's eyes left the harp to measure the properness of the distance between him and the young woman on the lavish sofa: about fifty centimeters. Certainly, he didn't ever give any reason to anyone to think he was after something because, in fact, he really wasn't. However, one had to be careful about creating wrong impressions and starting rumors.

When Athara entered the music room in search of his sister, he was greeted by the sight of von Bielefeld and Halea sprawled over the sofa, both put out of their misery by the chords of the syrupy melody, which was endlessly filling the room. Von Bielefeld was drooling on his sister's dress. It was one of her favorites, the one she would wear when she wanted to impress men; she believed it accentuated the color of her eyes and hair.

Athara motioned for the harpist to stop playing; the musician probably simply enjoyed the opportunity to play and didn't want to stop even after his audience had been lulled to sleep. The sounds stilled, the room falling completely silent. The youngest von Ashira concentrated back on the sleeping couple. The sight would have been comical if it had not been so disturbing. He didn't like von Bielefeld at all and he couldn't exactly tell why, which was disturbing enough in itself. He didn't know much about Wolfram except for those things he had told Eldara about the blond at the academy. So far, during his stay in the castle, von Bielefeld had left a quite unstable impression of himself, making it hard for anyone to make any conclusions about his character. Halea, in spite of anything, seemed to be smitten with him. If Eldara's plan succeeded, soon von Bielefeld would become their brother-in-law. The prospect of that made Athara's hands itch with the need to hit something.

The sea was stormy, and the weather forecast for the next few days was the same, thus the blond's suite would have to stay at the port waiting for better weather to sail. Athara wished for them to come faster and take von Bielefeld away. It wasn't going to be so easy, though: the doctor said something about not moving the blond for the next three weeks, and there was that unclear matter of His Royal Will. Wolfram was an emissary now. Without a doubt, it was just a means of giving von Bielefeld the immunity, but didn't it also mean he was going to stay here longer?

He should have just died in the sea.

* * *

><p>Wolfram woke up from his dream with a start. He had dreamt he was still on the pirate ship, the money for his ransom had never come, and he was standing on the end of a wooden plank. In the next moment, he was thrown over the board with his hands and legs tied.<p>

Wiping the drool off his mouth, the blond wondered vaguely why they bothered to tie him up. As far as he had been able to tell, there was the sea, the sea, and the sea everywhere. There was not a chance he would be able to reach a shore. The blond looked at Halea's blue dress, particularly her wet shoulder. Feeling a little seasick, he wondered what he should do about the wet spot. Drying it with a napkin would be a little… He should just leave while she was asleep. Gods knew what Halea would think of him sleeping with his head on her shoulder. Something of the romantic sort, clearly. Women always did.

Yawning and trying to be as silent as it was possible, Wolfram reached the door. As soon as he opened it, he met face to face with the duke. The man retracted his hand from the doorknob and moved aside politely, letting the blond pass.

"I was just looking for you," he said. "I was thinking about going for a ride in the park. Care to join m-?"

"Certainly!" Wolfram shot before Eldara could even finish. "Now? Great! I'll need a warm jacket, though. And boots," he added. "And gloves."

The duke gave an amused look to Wolfram's back. He was already hurrying down the corridor burning with excitement. Eldara slightly pushed the door to the music room open to see his sister sleeping on the sofa blissfully oblivious to her surroundings. Grinning, he closed the door softly.

Athara was away but the duke didn't think his brother would mind von Bielefeld borrowing some of his clothes. Thus, in fifteen minutes, the blond was set to go outside. During his more than a week's stay in Raizgad, it was the first time Wolfram had been outside of the castle. The weather was cold and a little windy, but it wasn't drizzling and the blond was simply happy to be in fresh air.

Climbing downstairs to where the horses stood ready, the duke wished his brother would ever be at least half-as-excited as Wolfram was now when he invited his brother for a ride. Athara didn't like riding and abhorred horses in general.

"Just take it slow," Eldara warned, when he saw Wolfram swing himself into the saddle easily. "I am certain that riding is not a very good idea for a man who has just suffered a concussion."

"Why, in the world, did you invite me, then?" Then Wolfram gasped as if he had just had a revelation. "Could it be you plan to get rid of me this way?" he asked with a grin, exuding his good mood right through his face, jacket, and boots. He rubbed his hands together, ready to grasp the reins out of the servant's hold and urge the horse forward.

Eldara chuckled. "No. I would have come up with a better plan. You simply seemed like you were close to starting to climb walls from boredom. Just don't gallop. Foot's pace is enough for you."

Wolfram looked a little disappointed, but he couldn't agree more. He watched the duke climb onto his horse and take the reins from the servant holding them. He wondered if Eldara was a good rider. If he were well, he would just race the duke to test him out. Now, however, he could only follow the duke's horse, which started trotting towards the road leading through the gate into the park.

It had been a frosty morning, the ground hard and glittery. It was unfrozen now but there was no slush. Wolfram's horse had to trudge along the road leading through the park while the duke galloped through the trees. Longingly, Wolfram watched this. Eldara was a good rider, not one of the best, but good. The duke's horse was happy with the exercise it was getting, the man hardly needing to urge it forward. It was almost certainly showing off. Wolfram lowered his head to look at the horse underneath him. It was half-asleep, probably wondering what kind of an oaf it was carrying.

The duke galloped around the park one more time then sidled up to Wolfram, who was forlornly following the road through the park. Eldara accepted the blond's glare as deserved.

"We'll race once you're better," he promised, still a little breathless.

"I'll hold you to that," Wolfram said, still sulking. "Then _you_ will be the one staring at my horse's tail."

Eldara laughed softly. "Are you a good rider?" he asked. He pulled his gloves off to grasp the band which had started to slide out of his hair.

Wolfram nodded. "Yes, I am."

"To tell you the truth, you didn't strike me as someone who would like outdoor activities," the duke admitted, pulling the band off his hair and then retying it.

"Oh. Why?"

Eldara grinned but the look in his eyes sharpened. He started putting his gloves back on. "Well, now this one here is a compromising question."

"But really. Why?"

"You… At first glance you look like a pampered kid."

"And you are an ass!"

Eldara gave him a sharp smile. "Well, now that we've got this out of our system, let me ask you another question. Are you any good at swordsmanship?"

The blond stared at the bush with bare twigs at the edge of the road they were passing by at a snail's pace. "I am probably better than some," he said modestly. He wondered if anyone could ever get the duke out of their system. It was probably possible only by slaughtering him. And, by gods, the man had just called him a pampered kid, he had called the duke an ass, and the man could still keep the conversation going like it was nothing. This suddenly made Wolfram think the duke was right; now, he did feel like an uncouth kid.

"What about you?" Wolfram asked in a few minutes, interested.

"I am probably worse than some," the duke answered just as imprecisely as Wolfram.

The blond looked at his right hand which was puffed with a bandage under the glove. It was getting better fast but was still not good enough.

"We can have a spar once you're better," the duke suggested.

"We seem to be going to do a lot of things once I am better," Wolfram commented, trying to bend his fingers and wincing in pain.

"Don't overdo it. I'm just trying to find more ways to keep you here longer."

"To keep me here for what?"

A small smirk appeared on the duke's face first then he laughed. "To carry out His Royal Will, of course."

"Right. I forgot that bit about '_His Will'_," Wolfram muttered. Both of them knew it was only temporary, just an empty title to inflate Wolfram's importance even more, to give him immunity. Wolfram knew that Eldara found it entertaining, and he couldn't blame the man.

When the blond sighed, the duke gave him a sideways look. He wondered about von Bielefeld and his ex-fiancé's relationship. The engagement had lasted for five years and, then, it was abruptly terminated, the blond leaving the capital. He could read a lot into the circumstances, but it wasn't clear what had precisely happened. Then, in the baths, Wolfram had been bitter when he talked about the annulment of the engagement. It must have been his king's decision to end it between them.

"Maybe Gwendal von Voltaire or His Majesty Yuuri Shibuya would visit you here?" the duke asked suddenly overtaken by curiosity about Shibuya and von Bielefeld's relationship.

"They would be idiots if they did."

"True," Eldara agreed. However, he couldn't help noticing that despite his confident answer, the blond didn't look so assured. "You don't seem to be so certain…" he drawled.

Wolfram shot him an uneasy look. The duke didn't know what an idiot Yuuri could be. Wolfram knew, though. The king could decide that traveling incognito to Kardera was the best idea ever. And, then, if caught in a bout of _extreme_ stupidity, Yuuri could also decide he was going to intermingle amongst the suite. Maybe he would even come up with a heroic but unneeded rescue plan. Wolfram hoped that if this happened, either Gwendal or Conrart would be able to talk the king out of it. Nevertheless, sometimes Yuuri was unbendable. You just couldn't convince him otherwise.

"His Majesty can be unpredictable," Wolfram summarized his thoughts finally.

"Well, yes," the duke said with a nod, "I've heard various things."

"What things for example?"

"Most of them are about his unrivaled power."

"Ah, yes." Wolfram chuckled lightly. He knew what exactly Eldara had had in mind but had tactfully chosen to avoid pronouncing. Yuuri, indeed, had power; his wisdom, however, was another matter. "Very young, optimistic, and idealistic," he said to Eldara.

"That does somehow work out, though," the duke said, smiling.

"Yes," Wolfram agreed. "It never ceases to surprise me."

"Well, it _is_ said that Lady Luck loves optimistic people."

"Is it?"

For a moment, they rode next to each other silently, and Wolfram suddenly felt that he hadn't been relaxed like this in a while. It was clearly a dangerous and misleading feeling, as the duke was far from someone he could allow himself to lose his sharpness around. But there was something unwinding in the way Eldara could understand him from half a sentence.

"Is there any news about my signet ring?" Wolfram asked after a long pause.

"No, I'm afraid there isn't any. One of the pirates admitted to having stolen the ring, but he had either sold or lost it as it wasn't found on him."

"_Sold or lost_?" Wolfram asked, uncertain.

"Well, he said he'd probably lost it while swimming towards the shore. I don't think he was lying, but who knows?"

"I see. So it's decaying somewhere on the bottom of the sea. Nice." Frowning, Wolfram patted the horse on its neck. He was cold already. While Eldara had been exercising and getting warm, he had been just trotting monotonously on the spot.

"Are all of them dead?" Wolfram asked.

"Yes."

"Sharp Ronny?"

"All of them."

"I'll just have to order a new ring," Wolfram concluded in a minute. He was starting to shiver, his feet getting frozen, but the horse was warming him up somewhat and he could already see the end of the road.

"Obviously."

They had made a slow-paced circle around the park and now were at the same gate leading to the castle. The sky had darkened during their leisurely ride, and half of the gate was already closed; clearly not all servants had been informed about the duke's presence in the park. Eldara stopped at the gate to let Wolfram pass first.

"If you would like, we can go down to the town next time," the duke suggested when they were approaching the castle.

"Oh, I definitely want to have a tour around the town!" Wolfram agreed enthusiastically. If he already was in Raizgad, then it was only natural to make the most of his stay.

The servants were already waiting at the stairs for their master. Wolfram and Eldara climbed off their horses and started walking up the stairs. The duke noticed that the blond was shivering; he couldn't discern in the half-light but even his lips seemed to be bluish. And, yet, he hadn't complained during their ride.

Wolfram turned around when something baaed somewhere near him. It was the same white cat which had sprayed him on his way to the baths. Baaing, he ran up the stairs to the duke, who was about to open the door, then snuck through the gap once it was open. The large cat ran no farther, though, and when Wolfram and Eldara entered the lobby, he started rubbing around the duke's feet.

"Missed me?" Eldara asked.

Wolfram, who was standing close to the duke, felt a strong whiff of sweat and horse when the man bent down to stroke the cat. It wasn't unpleasant, rather familiar and comforting, but Wolfram would have never associated those smells with the duke. The blond took his gloves off, stuffed them into the pockets of his coat and rubbed his hands together to warm them up faster.

"Whose cat is it?" Wolfram asked.

"Mine, of course," Eldara said, picking the purring animal up, still stroking. "All mine," he chuckled, scratching the cat under his chin.

"Hmm… Well, you do seem like a cat person."

"Do you prefer dogs?" Eldara asked, starting to walk down the corridor with the cat in his arms.

Wolfram followed him. "I think I prefer neither. I like horses."

"Oh, do you? I like horses as well."

"Yes, I noticed that. Yours is pretty attached to you."

"I don't have much time for her, though. I leave all the grooming for the stablemen."

"Pity that."

"Yes," Eldara agreed. Now they had entered his chambers, and he lowered the cat down so that he could jump off his hands. The large animal remained sitting on his hands, staring at the floor impassively, clearly not willing to give up his comfortable place. Despite his silent protest, the duke shook him off and started unbuttoning his coat. Wolfram followed his example.

"I haven't seen him around," Wolfram said, watching the cat walk to the closed door and baa. "Actually, only once."

"He either stays in my chambers or the study," the duke said, opening the door and letting the cat out. "Well, I'll go to the baths," he said after walking over to the sofa in the middle of the room and sitting down to take his boots off. "I stink of sweat and horse."

He glanced at Wolfram, who was now looking around, wondering where he could put his coat. Von Bielefeld had followed him into his chambers automatically, and Eldara had somehow naturally accepted that. The naturalness was going to end when the blond would suddenly decide he wanted to follow him to the baths. The prospect of himself and Wolfram soaking together in a pool was uncanny.

"Put it over that chair," Eldara pointed. Only now did he remember that Athara hated the smell of horses. He had better tell the servants to wash the clothing Wolfram was wearing. The duke could see that, when he told von Bielefeld where to put his coat, the blond also felt the awkwardness of the situation. The younger man appeared to be somewhat lost. In a second, he lifted his coat off the chair and startled walking towards the door.

"Thank you for inviting me for a ride," he said. "It was a pleasure."

Eldara nodded. "Oh, the pleasure was all mine."

* * *

><p>Wolfram could hardly remember when last time he had slept so well. The fresh air and some exercise did wonders and no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he was asleep. He woke up late in the morning, rested, his mind feeling clear and sharp.<p>

As some of the earlier clothing he had picked had been given to the servants to wash, Wolfram ransacked in the wardrobe for something else to wear. Now, he had to settle for the difficult option of picking from clothes he didn't want to wear earlier. It took him quite some time to decide but, finally, he chose a white shirt with puffed sleeves and a gray jacket which was almost up to his knees. The bottom part of the jacket was heavy with wavy frills and, when Wolfram put the jacket on, he decided that he looked as if he was wearing a dress.

The gray knee-breeches with white stockings he had donned on made him cringe. It looked better when he pulled black boots on. He took another look at himself in the mirror and decided against a cravat; there was already enough frills on him to last him a lifetime. Wolfram spent three more minutes looking at himself and wondering if he had donned everything properly. He missed his blue military uniform. It wasn't anywhere near being extravagant or stylish, but he knew it looked good on him and it was easy to wear – it wasn't possible to make mistakes while putting it on.

On his way to the dining-room, he was relieved when he could hear no snickers behind his back while he was walking down the corridors, and he made a conclusion that he looked passable.

"Good morning," Wolfram readily greeted the duke when he saw the man leaving his chambers.

The duke cast his eyes over his brother's attire on Wolfram. Then, he looked at the blond's face gloomily. "Good morning," he muttered darkly, shutting the door behind himself. Without waiting for Wolfram to catch up with him, he made his way down the corridor, leaving the blond to stare at his back in bafflement. Was it something he had done yesterday? Wolfram had been of opinion that both of them had rather enjoyed their little outing in the park. Maybe he had been mistaken.

When Wolfram entered the dining-room, Halea and Athara were already present, sitting at the table, engaged in a conversation about the approaching annual festival. Greeting the siblings, the blond walked over to his usual place, which was opposite Halea, and took the seat. The duke wasn't in the dining-room.

"Did something happen?" Wolfram asked, as Athara gave the sign for the servants to start bringing in hot dishes without waiting for his brother to arrive.

"Do you mean my brother's absence?" Athara asked. "He has received a summon letter from His Majesty Orinth the Fifth. He should be leaving for the capital about now."

Wolfram's breath hitched and he was just in time to steady his hand before he could spill the glass of juice. "My presence in Raizgad has just reached a new stage, hasn't it?" he said, chuckling uneasily. He lowered the glass back to the table, his appetite suddenly gone.

"Yes, that of an intercontinental conflict," Athara said with a scowl on his face. He motioned for the servant to bring the steamy puffed pancakes closer. "The jacket, if I may say so, suits you much better than it did me."

"Thank you," Wolfram said, overwhelmed by awkwardness. He couldn't blame Athara for thinking of him as a nuisance. He had also become painfully conscious that, with the duke gone, it was Athara now who took over the authority in the house. He didn't believe, though, that Athara would dare to do anything against his brother's orders. He had become aware at once that, just like Gwendal's in Blood Pledge Castle, Eldara's word was final in the von Ashira household. Athara may bark, but he was not allowed to bite. Hopefully.

"Eldara seemed to be in a dark mood when I saw him," Wolfram said. He nodded to thank the servant who put a pancake in his plate. "I thought it was something I did yesterday."

"Oh, no," Halea denied shaking her head, "I'm certain it isn't your fault. He's always edgy before meeting the king."

"Is he?" Wolfram wondered nonchalantly, putting on a spoonful of cream on his pancake. "But he always seems to be so confident in himself. What's there to worry about?"

Wolfram's attempts to fish around for personal information about the duke ended abruptly with Halea and Athara exchanging a knowing look.

"Try the pancakes, Wolfram," Athara said. "They are so good that they will make you swallow your tongue."

Meanwhile Halea gave the blond a smile filled with a polite apology but chose not to comment on the bite in her brother's words; she must have thought von Bielefeld had deserved that. Wolfram reached for his glass and took a sip of the apple juice; he had underestimated the woman.

Silently, Wolfram ate his pancakes. They were really good. He had no doubts that Orinth the Fifth would have wanted him and the duke to visit him together. However, he had obviously been warned that von Bielefeld's health did not allow him long journeys. He wondered if, in the long run, it would turn out to be a good or a bad thing.

* * *

><p>Three eventless days passed, and Wolfram noticed that the count of the guards in the halls had considerably increased. The duke was still away, and Athara, as ordered, was getting ready for the arrival of von Bielefeld's suite, since the forecasts announced longer breaks between the storms. It was impossible to tell the exact hour or even day, but the suite was going to disembark soon. Despite the fact that such an extreme increase in security made Wolfram uncomfortable, he could not wait for his men to arrive. He was bored out of his mind. Only after the duke had left, had he started to fully appreciate his and Eldara's conversations: at least he had something to look forward to or fret about.<p>

With the duke gone, and his lethargy spells becoming rarer and rarer, Wolfram's entertainment consisted only of eating meals (which were getting stranger and more intricate in both flavor and presentation), listening to the dreamy harpist, taking walks in the park together with Halea or reading alone. The conversations with Halea still left him frustrated with his inability to keep her engaged. The problem with reading was that all Halea was able to find for him were textbooks which she and her brothers had used to learn standard Shin Makoku language. This way, he was subjected to reading excerpts of texts which were either boring or had left him maddeningly curious about their beginning or ending.

Tbc


	11. Part 11

**gleish26: **I'm glad you like it so far. Well, stories with original characters are as interesting as the original character itself. There will be definitely more interaction between Eldara and Wolfram in the future chapters, so I hope you'll stay tuned :)

**Zafira: **Dar daug bus "bet…" ir "o…"

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20. Eldara – 31. Halea – 20. Athara – 18.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

xxxxxx

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 11

In the end, it was Halea, not the duke, who had taken Wolfram down to the town. It was to see the festival thrown annually at the end of the fall in order to thank Aurun, the Goddess's of Plenty. Wolfram was glad about any diversion from life saturated with boredom even if that meant he had to be subjected to about an hour's or more turtle-pace down the hill, through a small grove, and then all the way through the town to the festival square.

It was only Halea and Wolfram going down the steep hill (Halea in a carriage, while Wolfram decided that it was safer for him to ride a horse) as Athara was absent. Wolfram noticed that, despite the fact that the youngest von Ashira had been left in charge of the house, he was away quite frequently. When Wolfram had tried to ask his sister about that, she seemed to be uncomfortable and quickly changed the subject.

At first, the blond planned to just ride next to Halea's carriage. But, as soon as they had started going down the hill, he realized that there was no way he could keep up without receiving a grave and long-term headache. Resigned, he slowed his horse down. The interpreter fell back into his pace as well, and Wolfram saw the captain of the five guards team leave the side of the carriage. The man rode up to him, was told what had happened and, then, after a few seconds of thought, he sent the interpreter uphill for more guards. That was done with a clipped explanation and a nod for Wolfram. The rather impolite abruptness with which the man had just taken over the interpreter from his disposal irritated the blond.

"He back fast," the captain said seeing the unconcealed look of discontentment on Wolfram's face.

Certainly, the blond agreed that the captain had made the most sensible decision under the circumstances, but it wasn't about that.

"I ride with you until he backs," the captain said.

Wolfram thought that maybe the man mistook his dissatisfaction for the acute concern for his safety, but a more careful look at the captain's face told him that the man knew exactly what it was about, knew and just didn't give a fig. He had done what he had to do. And, if some arrogant top from Shin Makoku had problems with that, he had better suck it up.

Scowling, Wolfram lowered his eyes to stare at his horse's hypnotically swinging head. Gwendal often told him that he was self-centered. Of course, he was self-centered. He was perfectly aware of that. He was also aware that Gwendal was no less self-centered than he was. Wasn't that the inborn right of the nobility, after all? What would become of them if the servants started pushing them around? He was both wrong and right. Wolfram knew that as well. The responsibility that came with power would easily crush a lesser man. Self-centeredness, though, had to have its limits because it could – in a different way - crush a person as well.

When their party was already downhill, riding the streets, Wolfram became aware that one look at the dragon on the door of the carriage made everyone pull out of its way hastily. People would scatter aside to let them pass. Carts and carriages would turn aside as well. Two more guards approached the party, but Wolfram hardly noticed the captain leave his side, and the guards and the interpreter joined him as he was more interested in the curiously ornamented houses he was passing on the street.

While they were moving towards the packed square, despite the very cooperative masses, it soon became impossible for the carriage and the guards to pass and the party opted out to walk on foot. It didn't seem that the guards were worried, and Wolfram guessed that this was a common every year occurrence as well.

What was surprising was that as soon Halea left the carriage, she was greeted with warm smiles and respectful bows from people flowing down the street. After having seen the reaction to the carriage, Wolfram definitely hadn't expected this.

"It seems the members of von Ashira family are very much loved," Wolfram told the interpreter, after both of them had climbed down their horses.

The man looked uncomfortable for a moment and then smiled sheepishly, choosing not to comment on his words.

Right. Wolfram couldn't imagine the duke (or even Athara) getting the same warm treatment and then smiling back and waving his hands to greet and indulge his people like his sister was doing right now. The thought alone made Wolfram snicker. He thought that the earlier reaction to the carriage was more to the truth – the curtains had been drawn nearly all the way and it had been impossible to tell who was riding it – it could have been the duke himself.

The party entered the square and Wolfram's eyes (and nose) were drawn to rows and rows of food stalls on both sides. Vegetables, fruits, their preserves, various kinds of pies and breads, smoked or roasted fish and meat lined the counters. There were also carvings and fretworks of various statues, most of which Wolfram guessed to be gods and deities. Wooden spoons, ladles, mugs, toys, and jewelry boxes were laid out to show everyone the master's ingeniousness and skill and/or to bring some income. Many stalls were laden with knitted clothing, laces, and covers. Buckets, baskets, shovels, pitchforks, rakes, and everything else which came in handy in an everyday farmer's life was possible to find here.

There were also many young amateurs displaying their goods. Some of their wares were poor in quality but, at some of their stalls, there were crowds of interested people as youngsters would sometimes come up with new and interesting ideas. Masters would also leave their stalls to walk over to take a look at their goods, praise, and give a suggestion or two.

There were so many people streaming on both sides that it was hard to pass each other, and the guards around Wolfram and Halea made it even more difficult. Clearly, the festival and fair had also attracted people from surrounding villages and cities. Halea was flitting from one stall to another, oohing and aahing. She never bargained and was quick to draw her purse. Thus, the guards soon were carrying handfuls of bags with her purchases. It seemed that, no matter the country, women had the same inclination for buying.

Halea had lent Wolfram some money in case he wanted to buy something, and, if his interpreter's wide eyes were any indication, it was a handsome sum. The patterns and designs of wares were different to what he was used to seeing in Shin Makoku, and he examined them with interest. However, the blond hadn't found anything yet he would want to buy. He lingered more at the stall lined with knifes and daggers. And, then, he went to see the variety of horses at the end of the square. However, to buy a weapon and bring it into von Ashira household would probably count as an insult, and he didn't need a horse as he was provided with one; he had just been curious.

After noticing that Halea was bored to death by weapons and horses, tactfully, Wolfram followed her back into the world of laces and clothing. He had been surprised, though, when, just before leaving the stall with horses, she bought a mare. She had consulted with the captain, who had chosen the horse himself. As far as Wolfram could tell, it was a good horse – strong and seemingly tough. The thing was that the breed was quite short in height but wide in size. Its appearance could not compare to those of the stallions' von Ashira family owned. It was a good working horse, but Wolfram couldn't figure out why Halea would want to buy one. Maybe she would want to use the mare for riding as it was obvious that her wide back would be comfortable for riding.

"Lady von Ashira!"

Halea, Wolfram, and the rest of their party turned to see two women approaching. The guards let them pass and, soon, the three women were exchanging hugs. Both of them were older than Halea but wore equally expensive clothing and were followed by a couple of guards. Wolfram didn't understand what they were saying but, from the way they were treating Halea, it was obvious that their social standing was lower than Halea's. They were either some wives or daughters of nobility or successful merchants.

"This is Wolfram von Bielefeld from Shin Makoku." Halea introduced him to the women in Shin Makoku standard language.

Both women exchanged looks and curtsied, smiling curiously. Wolfram thought that it was the first time they had heard von Bielefeld's name; they didn't seem to be impressed. Somehow, he was disappointed.

"These are my friends. Lady Farera Anotan," Halea nodded at the taller woman. "And Lady Gertrud Koriman."

"Pleased to meet you," Wolfram said, bowing. He had a secret hope that the women would decide to go on without him. Instead, Halea's friends and their guards joined their party. He was subjected to more laces and clothing.

"How long is Sir going to stay in Raizgad?" Lady Anotan asked Wolfram. She flustered when Halea said something to her. She bowed apologetically. "I'm sorry, I mean, 'Your Highness'."

Wolfram shrugged it off with an encouraging smile. "Probably a few more weeks."

Both Lady Anotan and Lady Koriman gave Halea interested looks, and Wolfram groaned mentally, imagining what kinds of things they were thinking. They were probably about to ask when their wedding was going to take place. Luckily, the gong which suddenly echoed throughout the entire square saved Wolfram from more questions and presumptions. Startled, he looked around.

It seemed there had been no place for people where to move, but a narrow path had formed in the middle of the square. Wolfram gave Halea a questioning look, but she just shook her head smiling, and motioned for him to watch.

A woman, holding an armful of untreshed rye and wearing wide red clothing, started walking from the end of the square. Two young girls in white were following her. One was carrying a sickle, the other, a flail. The woman with the rye was singing. Wolfram couldn't understand the words of the song, but he liked the melody. She was, obviously, a priestess. He could already see the destination of the procession – a white temple amidst wooden village houses.

The crowd behind the priestess was closing, most of the people starting to follow her and the girls down the square into the temple. Wolfram was surprised when Halea and the rest of the party also followed the priestess. All that was left to him was to trail after them.

Inside, the temple seemed smaller than it appeared on the outside. It was made of some kind of white stone. There weren't many decorations with the exception of the stained glass in the windows and the elaborate altar at the end of the temple. Rows of benches lined its sides, and Halea led the party to the front rows, where they sat down.

Wolfram thought that it was colder inside than outside. The thick walls protected from winds but the stones radiated chilliness. It was usual in stone buildings. Wolfram could remember hours upon hours he had spent in Shin Makoku's temples.

The priestess had reached the altar where she placed the rye. The girls laid the sickle and the flail on the altar as well. The priestess moved behind the altar and the girls stood at her sides.

"Today we came here to express our gratitude to Aurun for her gifts," the priestess said, her clear resounding voice echoing in the temple. "Her generosity this year is astounding. Let's take a few minutes to properly thank her."

Wolfram watched everyone in the temple lower their heads and close their eyes. For a minute or more, the building sank into silence.

"Aurun was very generous this year," the priestess's voice rose again. "I invite you to show her respect and share her gifts with others who are in need of them."

Wolfram watched people swoop forward and leave offerings all around the altar. Food, coins, clothing, everything went. With fascinated horror, he watched the captain of the guards' team walk the horse towards the altar and tie her to one of the columns. Two guards carried the bags with Halea's purchases towards the altar as well. Halea's lady friends also gave their offerings.

"Is it for charity or will the horse be cut open on that altar in order to please the goddess?" Wolfram asked Halea.

Halea laughed softly. "Every year, during the festival, the city people donate to those in need."

"How do you decide who is in most need?"

"It's usually up to me to distribute the goods. I visit the families, talk to the neighbors, and so on. By now I know almost everyone in town," Halea explained after Wolfram gave her a surprised look. "Eldara used to do it as it is usually the responsibility of the duke or his wife. His methods, though…" she fell silent for a moment. "Well, he said he didn't want to be responsible for the feuds among the people and, in the end, we decided that I was more suitable for the job."

Wolfram wondered what exactly had happened for the duke to pass the duty on to his sister. However, after spending quite some time in Eldara's presence, he got the hunch that maybe the duke had been using the "_give a man some fish and he will be fed for a day, give him a rod and he will be fed for a lifetime_" principle. Not everyone could understand and approve of that.

"You are probably the most generous donator as well," Wolfram remarked. It was no wonder the people of the town liked her – she was a savior of sorts.

"I am supposed to show the example," Halea said.

Wolfram nodded. "You could have told me what this festival was about. I would have bought something as well."

"Well, you still have the money," Halea noted with an amused smile on her lips. She gently held Wolfram down by his arm when he wanted to go to the altar. "It's better, though, to give things instead of money; some people are bad with it." With her head, she motioned at the door. "It is not too late yet to buy something."

It was a sensible suggestion, and Wolfram nodded. "I'll be quick and…"

"Oh, let's all go together, Sir," Lady Koriman insisted, smiling brightly. "I'm certain Halea knows best what to choose."

Wolfram gave Halea a questioning look. "But aren't you needed here?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet. Everyone will be bringing goods until the evening. I'll return when it starts darkening."

In the end, Wolfram bought twelve loaves of bread, five large pieces of ham, three sacks of potatoes, a sack of flour, a basket of cabbage, and four piglets. When they returned to the temple, it had been turned into a neighing, cock-a-doodle-doing, clucking, and oinking barn.

Halea busied herself till midnight: she and the priestess with her girls counted the donations and then discussed the families that were in needed of them. A few men volunteered to lend their carts for delivering heavier goods to the people, and Halea gladly accepted the help. She also sent out two of her guards to distribute. Halea's friends stayed with her until she was done. Then, everyone dispersed for the night.

Wolfram hadn't imagined he would stay in the town for such a long time. The repeated circuits amongst the counters filled with varicolored goods and never ceasing noise had given him a headache. Even before returning to the temple for the second time, he had been aware that he had already used up the limit of excitement the doctor had told him about. What he would have liked best was a bed. However, he could not think himself abandoning Halea in the middle of her noble mission. He guessed that Athara had not come in order to avoid the exhausting ordeal. This presumption made Wolfram feel both gracious to Halea and superior to her brother.

By midnight, Wolfram started wincing at every loud sound or harsh movement. The prospect of riding all the way back up to the castle was giving him the shivers. Despite that, when he was on the horse, riding through the sleeping village, he considered the day to be well-spent. Again, he was trailing behind the carriage, only the lamp hanging off the back of the carriage visible.

Wolfram was almost asleep when he heard a suspicious noise ahead. He raised his head to look at a grove in front of him. He couldn't make out anything amongst the bare trees but the shouts the sound of metal clashing repeated again, and he urged his horse forward. He had to stop quickly as his two bodyguards barred his way. He could see that the guards wanted nothing more than to go and see what happened but they had a duty to protect him.

Wolfram looked back at the scared interpreter. He wondered if ordering the men to stand down would give any results. Probably not – they obeyed von Ashira orders, which stated that they had to keep him out of danger.

"Sir, they want you to head back to the village," the interpreter said after one of the guards barked something out.

"Well, sure they do," Wolfram muttered. He turned his horse around and started riding in the direction of the village. At first, it didn't seem that the soldiers were buying his obedient retreat but, then, they started following him. When they had nearly caught up with Wolfram, he turned around suddenly, slipped past them, and galloped towards the grove. They were a hundred years too early to catch a rider like him, even if his head was pounding like mad.

_It had better not be a wheel slipped off its axis_, Wolfram thought hazily, shooting into the grove. The duke would not let him live that one down.

Wolfram's vision was much better than that of Humans but, even then, he had no time to stop his horse, which had galloped onto a body on the ground. All could he do was brace himself for the fall. It wasn't that bad, though, as he had expected it – the horse tripped and fell onto its side. He flew out of the saddle but he was nearly on the ground by that time, so he rolled over, somehow managed to avoid a tree, and, finally, flopped onto his backside. Ungraceful, but nearly painless, with the exception of his pounding head.

He staggered onto his feet. Now he could clearly hear the shouts for help. He ran forward to the lamp he could see amidst the tress. With the sight of the carriage, his vision was filled with two bodyguards fighting off six men. The coachman was very likely dead, hanging off the seat in a very curious manner. One of the attackers had thrown the carriage door open and was climbing inside. It was obvious that it wasn't easy to do, though – it seemed that there was a hurricane raging within the carriage, blowing at him, keeping him away. Wolfram could hear Halea screaming inside.

Before Wolfram could think of anything, he instinctively summoned his fire element and sent it towards the fighting men. He was hardly aware that his guards had already caught up with him and had whooshed past him to help fight off the enemy. By the time they had reached the carriage, though, there was no one left to fight off. A huge flaming lion had knocked one of the attackers down along with the entire horse and bit his head off. Its enormous claws slashed another one on the back, throwing him aside like a ragdoll. The third man met his fate with his leg in the lion's jaws and a sword through his chest. The one who had been climbing into the carriage was speared through by the captain's sword. The last attacker had tried to run but the lion had caught up. His screams echoed in the grove for a few seconds then died off abruptly. All of this happened in a span of mere eight seconds.

Exhausted, Wolfram leaned against a tree. He could see his lion trotting back towards him, ignoring the guards. It was a huge animal, with its fur flaming brightly, a long mane, and powerful limbs. The danger had passed, and the lion was relaxed like its master. It was the first time Wolfram had summoned such a strong specimen, and he was staring at it in awe.

"Sir?"

Wolfram turned his head to look at the captain. He guessed he didn't look that good as the man's face showed concern.

"Sir, alright you?"

Holding onto the tree, Wolfram got to his feet. The captain was just in time to catch the blond when he fell backwards, unconscious. The lion burst into tiny specks of fire and disappeared.

* * *

><p>Wolfram woke up to soft voices discussing something. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in his usual room in the von Ashira castle. He was in bed, warm and comfortable. He recognized the duke's voice and turned his head to look at the door. Eldara was talking to the doctor. Wolfram couldn't understand what they were saying but they were probably discussing him.<p>

The duke saw the emerald-green eyes looking at him. He stopped talking and touched the doctor on his shoulder, motioning with his head at the blond in the bed.

"Good morning, Wolfram," Eldara greeted.

Wolfram nodded. "Good…" he yawned loudly. "Sorry. Good morning." One more look at the duke's face made him wonder. The man seemed to be very concerned about something.

Oh, right, the attack.

"Is Halea alright?"

The duke inclined his head towards the blond. "Yes, she's perfectly alright. You have my utmost gratitude."

Wolfram smiled. "Then, I suppose, I have evened the score out."

Eldara watched him for a few seconds then chuckled lightly. "Yes, you could say so. It seems you have a knack for saving damsels in distress. I didn't know we have been keeping the score, though," the duke added, with a tingle in his voice and eyes, and Wolfram couldn't tell if it was amusement, a warning, or something else.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked Wolfram, walking over to the bed.

Tentatively, Wolfram moved his arms and legs. "I think I'm fine," he said. The blond was aware that the doctor had rudely interrupted right at the moment when he thought that the conversation was getting heavier. It had been, but it had also been getting more interesting and he didn't mind that.

Wolfram sat up. He found that his upper clothes were gone and what was left were only a shirt and underwear.

"Alright, I will leave you for the examination," the duke said to Wolfram. "Tell me when you're done," he addressed the doctor.

"Of course, Your Grace."

When the duke left the room, Wolfram motioned at the door with his head. "When did he come back?" he asked the doctor.

"Yesterday in the evening, Sir."

"So, I slept through the night…" Wolfram muttered.

"No, Sir. You have slept through the night _and_ one more day. We were very worried."

Wolfram stared at the doctor for a few seconds. "Oh." The look on the man's face was genuine and Wolfram could see that they, indeed, had been. "But I feel fine now," he said, not certain if he was just stating the fact or encouraging the doctor.

"Well, Sir has been warned against exhausting activities. Summoning elements is one of those as well."

Wolfram wondered if he should offer a snappy comment but then decided that the doctor was just talking for the sake of talking. He had done his duty – had warned him – and it was up to Wolfram what he chose to do with that warning.

"So, as I feel well, can I just get up and go?"

"Yes, Sir. As soon as the examination is over."

Resigned, Wolfram sagged back into the bedding. He badly wanted to go to the bathroom. "Any news about my suite's arrival?" he asked when the doctor was holding his head between his hands and turning it this and that way.

"I think I heard that they had finally embarked the ship. His Grace certainly knows more about it."

Wolfram's face brightened; he was looking forward to seeing his people. He also, more or less, knew who Gwendal would have chosen to send to Raizgad.

"Alright, I'm done here, Sir. It doesn't seem that there is something wrong. It was probably just fatigue. But be careful not to overstrain yourself."

"Yes, I will make certain not to."

"His Grace will want to talk to Sir," the doctor said, taking off his stethoscope. "His Grace seems to…" he trailed off. "Well, he has some news from the king." He gave Wolfram an encouraging look. "It seems it is good news."

Tbc


	12. Part 12

**shie0917**: Welcome back to the fanfiction world for at least awhile :) Thank you for your greetings and wishes. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I'm glad you still like Bloom. It is a very melancholic peace. Nothing happens here much, mostly just character development and regrets of past and present lives.

Well, as I keep always saying, what I like most is the journey towards the "cake". The longer and intense journey is, the better the "cake" is.

**OfficialGeek**: Thank you for your warm comment. I hope you'll find the next chapters no less intriguing :) I do tend to have quite a few original characters in my fanfiction and it's only due to them that the plot advances. The trick is not to make those original characters perfect.

**Alicia Spinet**: It is really good news that Eldara has for Wolfram – no worries there. The suite will arrive a bit later. We still have a few sneaky bastards to deal with before that.

**Narudi**: Wolfram has grown up – he turned into a man. I doubt that training at the military has enhanced his magical abilities. Wolfram, as an heir to von Bielefeld House and lands is expected to be well-versed in various types of fighting (swordfight, fistfight, fencing, magic wielding, etc, etc.). He is a warrior and has been trained by best of the best in Blood Pledge castle. The only things that the army will give him is more experience and the needed amount of service to advance the ranks.

The names are better to remember when you read more slowly, haha

xxxxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20. Eldara – 31. Halea – 20. Athara – 18.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 12

"Your suite is arriving in two days," Eldara informed Wolfram.

They were sitting in the duke's office, Eldara at his desk. Wolfram was in a chair in front of it. After the doctor's examination, the blond had dressed, visited the bathroom, and then had a light snack.

"Finally," Wolfram said. "Took them long enough."

Eldara gave him a benevolent smile which cut through Wolfram like a sword through butter. "You must be worried about your security. Rest at ease. From what I have heard, I can tell that you alone could defeat all of Raizgad's army. The ardor, the splendor with which you charged at the enemy! My soldiers are in stupefied awe!"

"So you'd better I had left Halea to…" Wolfram wondered what the attackers had intended to do. "To be kidnapped?"

"Of course not," Eldara said smoothly. "Your act is a perfect example of bravery and heroism. In fact, I've already sent a letter to His Highness Gwendal von Voltaire where I described your altruistic deed and stressed how proud he should be to have a brother like you."

Wolfram inhaled sharply. "You didn't!"

The duke chuckled. "Would you like me to send one?"

The blond glared at him. "No." If Gwendal ever got wind of his temerity, he would come to Raizgad to personally collect him concussion or no concussion. It was obvious that the duke was perfectly aware of what influence Gwendal had on his life. On the other hand, it wasn't difficult for him to figure out as he and his siblings shared a very similar relationship.

"Anyway," Eldara said, getting serious. "About my visit to His Majesty Orinth the Fifth. To put it short, the King of Kardera welcomes Emissary Wolfram von Bielefeld and wishes him and his suite a pleasant stay in his country."

"Oh, does he?"

"Yes, he does."

"That's nice."

The sarcastic intonation made the duke give the blond a glance. "Well, Gwendal von Voltaire is a power to be reckoned with."

"Do you even take Yuuri Shibuya seriously?"

The sudden question made Eldara laugh softly. "Yes, sometimes I do. But most of the time I don't," he admitted, grinning. "You will have to forgive me for saying this about your former fiancé but, with a few exceptions, he's practically apolitical."

The unexpectedly honest reply made Wolfram chuckle. It was surprising to hear the duke answer so directly, and, to show his appreciation, Wolfram inclined his head. He didn't even feel guilty for not trying to defend his king's honor. Everything Eldara had said was true: Gwendal von Voltaire was the head of Shin Makoku, and Yuuri was its…weapon? This sounded strange, keeping in mind that Yuuri was a pacifist to his core. For a moment, Wolfram pondered on the contradictory thought. Then, he shook it off.

Shuffling the papers on his desk absentmindedly, the duke watched Wolfram for a few seconds. "I don't think I can express in words what Halea means to me," he said softly, putting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together. "I am forever in your debt."

Startled, Wolfram leaned back into his chair. He smiled awkwardly. "Well, as said, I just evened the score out." Uncomfortable, he squirmed as the duke gave him a long searching look.

"Right," Eldara said tapping his fingers on the desk, the spell breaking. "You just made me think that you're just about as apolitical as your king."

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't request you to give up your county to me in reward."

Eldara's eyebrows rose. "You're not too late to do that yet," he said, grinning. "I'm afraid, I'll refuse to give it up, though. It won't do to have such an apolitical leader as you."

Wolfram rolled his eyes. "Nobody said I'd be the one ruling it."

The duke nodded. "Oh, if it's Gwendal von Voltaire, then I promise to think about it."

The blond gave a tortured sigh. "You like my brother a lot, don't you?"

"Not really. I simply noticed that the very mention of his name makes you sit straighter. But never mind that. If you really feel alright, I would like to keep my promise and show you around the town," the duke suggested. "Well, certainly, you did that with Halea, but nonetheless. Are you interested?"

"Of course I am," Wolfram said, his posture on the chair changing, his whole body leaning forward enthusiastically. "When are we going?"

"It never ceases to amaze me, your eagerness for outings."

"Mmm…" Wolfram drawled, suspicious. "In which way does it amaze you?"

"In a good way, Wolfram, in a good way. I think we should leave shortly after lunch."

"I'm all for it."

* * *

><p>As soon as Wolfram entered the dining room, Halea ran up to him and grabbed him into a hug. "Oh, Wolfram, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she repeated squeezing him.<p>

Startled, Wolfram made a few steps backwards but then stopped as he realized that he was dragging Halea with him. If he retreated any farther, both of them would simply stumble on the fluffy carpet and fall.

"I was so scared!" Halea cried, kissing him on both cheeks. "I thought it was over!"

Wolfram patted the animated woman on her back soothingly. Over Halea's shoulder he could see the duke watching them. He was smiling and there was something approving in his eyes, and, suddenly, Wolfram thought that maybe, contrarily to what he had believed, Eldara didn't exactly mind him being close to his sister. The suspicion unnerved Wolfram and made him painfully aware of how intimately his and Halea's bodies were touching.

"You're my hero now," Halea said, laughing. She released the blond from her embrace to look at his face and, Wolfram answered her with an awkward laugh. He gave her hand a few light pats. Then, still feeling out of place, he hurried over to his usual seat for comfort.

When Athara entered the dining-room, and the younger male's eyes set on Wolfram, the blond immediately became aware that something had changed. There was not a trace of former hostility on Athara's face: the man smiled brightly and rushed towards him.

"We can never thank you enough for what you've done!"

It was obvious that he wanted to either grab Wolfram's hands or pull him into a hug. Thus, Wolfram kept nodding at him and smiling generously, but remained firmly seated to avoid any contact. He had never liked touchy-feely people, and, for some reason, the thought about Athara touching him was very disquieting. The whole ordeal was making him wish he had skipped lunch.

"There is no need be so shy," Athara commented, amused as Wolfram just kept smiling at him. "You're an official hero now."

Wolfram didn't know what to answer to that, and then thought that it was probably good that he didn't as he noticed something suspicious flit over Athara. It was short, but it was unmistakably there.

The blond also caught the duke watching him and his brother with something akin to disappointment on his face, and his lips were pressed into a stern line. The expression disturbed Wolfram and even more so as he couldn't figure out why it was there. He couldn't wait to get out of the dining room.

When hot dishes were brought in, Wolfram gave them a critical eye. This time, it was something black and seemingly squishy. It smelled strange as well, not unpleasant but strange. He waited for a servant to lay a plate in front of him.

"Athara, what happened to the food?" the duke asked after having watched Wolfram stare at his plate, then take a tentative bite, after which his eyes widened. The blond then continue to move the contents of the plate from one site to another without eating anything.

"What do you mean?"

Eldara gave his brother a warning look. "During my stay in Shin Makoku, I thought that the food there was god-awful. I think I did ask you not to torture Wolfram with ours?"

"Err…" Wolfram drawled, concerned when the tension at the table grew suddenly. "It's fine. I'll just take something else," he said hurriedly. But after a glance at the table he realized that there was nothing he would want to try. "That…mm…goulash looks quite attractive."

"That's tomato sauce," the duke said.

"Oh." Wolfram deflated, his cheeks reddening.

"Would you prefer some pancakes, scrambled eggs or maybe both?" Eldara asked him.

"Mm…scrambled eggs, please."

The duke nodded, and a servant was immediately sent to the kitchen to fulfill Wolfram's wishes.

After the scrambled eggs had reached the table, and Wolfram tore into them with ravenous appetite, the lunch continued smoothly with the four of them chatting about the festival and Eldara's journey to the capital. Wolfram noticed that after his brother's reprimand, Athara was more subdued than usual. He tried not to show that it had affected him, but it was obvious. Wolfram thought that maybe inviting him to go to the town with him and Eldara would improve his mood. However, it had been the duke who had invited Wolfram and the blond wasn't certain if he should interfere. In the end, Athara was first to leave the dining-room, and Wolfram lost the chance to speak up.

* * *

><p>Wolfram looked at the sky and wrapped himself tighter into his warm cloak. It had started snowing. The tiny snowflakes whirled lazily in the air, almost floating in the absence of wind. They were thinly spread and sparse and melted as soon as they touched the ground.<p>

They had already ridden down the hill and reached the same grove where Halea had been attacked. There were twice as many guards today than at the time when Wolfram had been with Halea, and he felt absolutely secure. However, the large amount of men around them made it hard for Wolfram and Eldara to strike up a conversation. When they entered the grove, it dried up entirely. It didn't feel uncomfortable, though. They simply rode next to each other silently, the sounds of metal jingling, horses snorting, and hooves hitting the ground echoing around.

Wolfram was brought back to the first time when he had examined a row of huge and detailed portraits in the castle, hanging on a wall just when one climbed the stairs to the second floor. There were nine von Ashiras, Eldara's full-body portrait hanging last. Out of sheer curiosity, Wolfram had compared his and his father's, Ernest von Ashira's, portrait. Eldara was nearly his father's copy: facial features, build, and even the intense aura, everything was shared. If Eldara cut his hair short, it would be hard to tell them apart. Nonetheless, Eldara must have inherited his strikingly blue eyes from his mother. His father's, just like Halea's and Athara's, were hazel.

When Wolfram had unwittingly followed the duke to his chambers after their ride in the park, he had accidentally seen the portrait of the whole von Ashira family in Eldara's room. Ernest and Eldara von Ashiras were standing side to side, behind a couch on which Halea, still a little girl, and her mother were sitting. Athara was no older than two or three years and was sitting on her knees. When it came to that, Wolfram didn't even know her name. He knew now, though, from whom Athara had inherited his blue hair. The woman had long, blue, cascading hair of exceptional beauty.

"I don't want to appear to be rude," Wolfram said suddenly, "but what actually happened to your parents?"

The duke gave him a surprised look at the impulsive question. He turned his horse so that it would step closer to Wolfram's.

"Why are you interested?"

"Hmm… I'm just curious, I suppose."

Eldara chuckled. "Fair enough."

The duke indeed was much more knowledgeable about Wolfram's affairs than he was about the duke's. Nevertheless, the blond was inclined to think that after having spent quite some time with the man, he got to know many things about him as well. For one, he knew that if there was anything sacred for Eldara, it was his family.

"My mother died of pneumonia," Eldara said. "Ernest von Ashira was killed in Derington Battle."

Wolfram's face showed surprise and the duke nodded. "Yes, your father was killed in the same battle."

"Thousands of people died then," Wolfram muttered somberly, staring at the wet ground. The Battle of Derington took place in Big Cimaron sixteen years ago, when he was only four. He didn't remember anything about it, only what he had read in history books. It had been the last battle during which the Demons had been driven out of Humans' lands. Or so Humans thought. Demons, of course, believed that since they had lived there since time immemorial, the territory was theirs, and Humans were driving them out of their homes.

"Yes, thousands of them," Eldara said softly. "And what was the point? Demons are coming back again with peace and trade treaties."

"Do you hate Demons?"

"That's not a very smart question to ask, Wolfram. But no, I don't hate you. Instead, I am rather wary of you. Demons are tougher and smarter. You mature faster as well. I always try to remember that when dealing with you."

"I noticed that you don't particularly like your Demon heritage."

"I wouldn't say that I don't like it. It's just there. It wouldn't make much sense not to like or like it. But there are cases when I really appreciate it."

Wolfram was silent for a moment. Just as he had suspected, Eldara did have a contract with one of the elements. Athara used water, and Halea a wind element. He wondered which of the four the duke controlled.

"When we had been attacked, no one used esoteric stones," Wolfram wondered. "It had been a planned attack. They must have known Halea is able to use one of the elements."

"Not necessarily," Eldara said. "Most half-bloods are resistant to esoteric stones. Thus, in all probability, they thought there was no point in taking them. Besides, they are hard to afford."

Wolfram smiled to himself.

"What are you grinning at?"

"I am pretty certain that there have already been quite a few attempts at you and your family. By this time, probably the whole Raizgad knows that esoteric stones don't work on either of you."

Eldara laughed softly. "You're clearly recovering from your concussion."

"I suspect that this is the closest to a compliment that I will ever receive from you," Wolfram said.

"I didn't know you were interested in receiving my compliments."

Despite the cool air, Wolfram's face flushed red. Eldara gave him a curious look. He hadn't expected the blond to react to the light teasing like this. Wolfram's eyes stayed fixed on the ground, and it was obvious he was at a loss as to what to say. The duke suddenly realized that the younger male was very conscious of him. Eldara wasn't certain what had caused this, but this was an interesting observation.

Eldara cleared his throat, but then understood that anything he would say would only make the matters even more awkward, so he kept quiet. The sound, though, made the color on Wolfram's face even deeper.

Until this moment, Wolfram had not realized that he, indeed, wanted to be complimented by Eldara. It wasn't that he experienced some romantic feelings towards the duke. It was probably the matter of Eldara being more experienced, very intelligent, and also older than him. He also respected Eldara and felt a little intimidated by him. A compliment from a person one looked up to was always precious.

The blush slowly receded from Wolfram's face. He was grateful to the duke for not commenting any further. He was apprehensive to think what Eldara thought of his embarrassed silence.

"What element do you wield?" Wolfram asked, hoping that this sounded like a sensible transition between topics.

The duke was very tempted to tease the blond again then decided against it. Wolfram would probably clam up and ignore him for the rest of their outing. And he rather liked talking to Wolfram.

"Care to guess?"

"Hmm… Earth?"

Eldara gave him a searching look. "Why would you think so?"

Wolfram chuckled. "I'm right, aren't I?"

The duke nodded, smiling. "Yes, you are. I didn't think it was so easy to tell, though."

"Well, all earth element wielders have a few distinguishing traits."

"Such as?"

"I think you know them pretty well yourself."

"But of course. However, I am very interested in hearing your version."

"Are you? All earth wielders that I've ever met were tyrannical, bent on power and control individuals."

Eldara didn't even try to hide his grin. "It is usually said that we have authoritative and responsible personalities, but, yes, I like your version better." Eldara's grin widened even more; he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "And what do people say about fire wielders?"

Wolfram flushed red for the third time since he had woken up in the morning. People often said that most fire wielders were hot-tempered, whimsical, and arrogant. It was commonly said that they also have a higher sex drive than others. He would rather die than repeat all that. But it seemed that the duke was satisfied with the question alone, giving him mercy and not waiting for him to answer.

"Most of what people say is nonsense anyway," Wolfram muttered.

Eldara burst out laughing. "Well, yes," he agreed. He gave Wolfram a wink. "I didn't receive any strange reports from my maids. I'm afraid, however, that people might be right about the rest of the characteristics."

Wolfram muttered something under his breath, most likely an insult.

Eldara chuckled. "Don't we get along just splendidly?"

"Yes, like a house on fire."

"Indeed, indeed," the duke said, completely ignoring the blond's sarcastic tone.

Wolfram wondered how much his status had changed after he had saved Halea. Athara had certainly warmed up to him, Halea adored him, but the duke still kept treating him like a kid instead of acknowledging him. This annoyed Wolfram to no end.

"Well, let's head for Odule Temple," Eldara said. "We'll look around on the way."

Only now did Wolfram become aware that they had entered the town. The time had just flown past unnoticed, and he hadn't even had time to get bored; maybe to get a little bit annoyed, though.

"Odule?" Wolfram drawled questioningly.

"It is right there," the duke extended his hand to show a dark stone building far ahead, a few squares away. "The God of Lightning."

"I see. How many gods do you have in Kardera?"

Eldara shook his head, amused. "I am not certain. It is pretty hard to keep track of all of them. The total number would probably come up to over a hundred."

"I suppose I should have asked about Raizgad instead."

"Well, there's Aurun, Odule, the God of War, the Goddess of Peace, the God of Fire, the Goddess of Rain, the Goddess of Cattle, the Goddess of Luck and so on and so forth."

"You don't seem to be a very religious man…"

"Oh, I'm a very big believer, Wolfram. I believe that everyone should believe in something, be it heavenly punishment or reward. Religion is a very good disciplinary measure. The more believers there are, the easier is to control them."

"Like sheep, aren't they?" Wolfram muttered. "You can practically make them do anything if they believe that their god demands that."

The duke gave him an appreciative look. "Exactly."

Wolfram sighed. "I am glad that Shin Makoku limits itself with four gods," he said, deciding not to pursue the topic.

"Ah yes, you have it easy. The God of War, Love, Fertility, and Death. I have always been amazed by the logical counterpart each god has."

"It is disputable, but some historians claim that the logic came during the reign of Hadrian the Blackbeard. He seems to have reorganized the entire pantheon at a sword's tip."

"An efficient man."

"Yes, he indeed was," Wolfram agreed, watching a peasant scurry out of their way. The reaction to the duke, just as Wolfram had guessed, was different than to Halea. People tried to avoid their party, and, if their and Eldara's gazes met, they bowed deeply and hurried away.

"Where does Athara spend his time? He rarely stays in the castle," Wolfram asked after a few minutes of looking around. He was surprised to see that his question made the duke frown in distaste.

"I'm certain your curiosity will be satisfied soon," Eldara said. "He mentioned something about taking you together with him in thanks for your heroic deed."

"I see." The duke didn't elaborate anything more on the subject, and it was clear to Wolfram that any further inquiries would be brushed off.

A racket farther down the street attracted their attention. The duke motioned for some of his guards to move forward and their horses broke into gallop. Wolfram was immediately aware of how his interpreter had moved closer to him; the man reasonably thought that the safest place was near someone who was able to summon a destructive fire lion.

When Wolfram and Eldara rode into the scene of action, they were met with a curious sight: the guards had formed two small groups to isolate someone inside. A crowd of onlookers had gathered as well.

"What is going on here?" the duke inquired the captain, who had hurried over to them both.

"There was a fight, Your Grace," the captain explained. "It seems that those three men," he pointed at one group, "assaulted the son of Lennon Barista of Elkia."

The duke glanced at the three men then looked at the opposite side where one man stood separated from the crowd. "Ah, the baron's son," he said. A bit farther, a man was lying on the ground. A few villagers were tending to him.

"Yes, Your Grace." The captain pointed at the man on the ground. "His guard is unconscious, but Barista has escaped serious injuries. Just a few bruises."

"Your Grace!" Barista's high-pitched voice echoed through the crowd. He moved forward but was held back by the duke's soldiers. "Your Grace!" he called again to get the duke's attention.

Listening to his interpreter's quick prattle, Wolfram watched Barista, who was on the verge of starting to wrestle with the soldiers. His nose was bloodied and he was shaking in barely controlled anger.

"Your Grace, I demand justice! These lowlifes attacked me out of nowhere! They injured me and beat my bodyguard unconscious. They should be hanged at once! Thieving bastards!"

"You scum!"

"Liar!"

Some bustle followed in the second group, the guards forcing one of the men to the ground and trussing his arm behind his back. Other guards had a firm hold on the other two men.

"Quiet!" the duke snapped as the third one was still continuing to struggle and curse mindlessly. Eldara threw the reins to the captain and slid off his horse. Eldara walked closer to the baron's son but his face was carefully blank, he not showing much reaction to the man's demands. "Sir…?"

"Sir Verinas Barista, Your Grace," the son of the baron introduced himself, bowing lightly. "Your Grace, could you tell the guards to release me? It's those damn peasants who are dangerous criminals."

Eldara nodded. "Yes, of course. Just don't move far away from my men in case those beasts break free."

Wolfram watched the guards separate to let Verinas go free. However, the man stayed close to the guards just as advised. Eldara hadn't come closer to him either, and Wolfram realized that the duke was taking a neutral stand.

"So, what happened?" Eldara asked.

"Your Grace, I was riding down the street to the fountain when I was suddenly attacked! They dragged me and my bodyguard off the horse and then…"

"Yes, thank you. And previously?"

The baron's son gave Eldara a questioning look. "Your Grace? They are thieves."

"He raped our sister!"

The duke turned to the other three men. "Oh? Did he?"

"Your Grace, he…"

"How dare you lie!" Verinas cut the man off. "She kept clinging to me day after day! What rape are you talking about?! I have been trying to get rid of her for a whole month! She wouldn't leave me alone! She must have had a heinous plan to rob me. So when she hadn't succeeded, these three jumped me!"

"You piece of shit! You…"

"You're dead! You're so fuckin'…"

"I'm gonna rip you a-"

Eldara snapped his fingers, giving a signal to his soldiers, and the shrill voices quieted down, the three men collapsing in a heap of groaning and moaning mass.

"I won't repeat myself, gentlemen," the duke said. He looked at the crowd, which shrank back a little. "Where is that woman they are talking about? I'd like to have a word with her."

"Your Grace, why would you listen to some half-witted villager?" Barista started. "She is j-"

"Your Highness! Lord von Bielefeld! Have mercy!"

Wolfram was completely stunned for a moment when one of the three men launched himself at him. It was clear that Wolfram wouldn't be able to move his horse out of the way so fast. But before he or the guards could make their move, the duke had already made a few steps forward, knocking the man away with an abrupt backhand hit, sending him spinning to the ground.

"Now, listen," Eldara hissed down at the groaning man. "One more brilliant idea like that, and I'm sending you directly onto the scaffold. Understood?"

The man nodded dizzily, touching his split lip.

"Why wait, Your Grace?" Barista chuckled. "Th-" He clamped his mouth shut as Eldara's hand moved, making the soldiers look at him. The duke didn't say a word but gave him such a look that Barista grasped at once that it was best to keep quiet for now.

Eldara gave him a sharp smile. "Thank you, Sir. Now, if somebody would be so kind as to show me to the heroine of this spectacle, I would be grateful forever."

"Can I go as well?" Wolfram asked when the words had been interpreted to him.

The duke gave him a thoughtful stare then looked at the man he had hit and who was already being dragged back to his brothers. "I suppose you can," he said softly. "It seems you have already gotten involved after all."

"Well, he did ask me to intervene," Wolfram remarked. "I will. Even if only for the sake of satisfying my curiosity."

"Curiosity?" Eldara shook his head, snorting but said nothing. With a few soldiers in tow, the duke approached a couple of men who had stepped forward.

From afar, Wolfram watched them converse. Of course, he understood that any interference on his part was practically impossible. The duke was going to do with the brothers anything he wanted. After all, they were his subjects. All he could do was to observe the situation. It had been surprising enough that Eldara hadn't commented on his words.

The duke and two of his soldiers started following one of the two men, who had started showing the way. The rest of the guards stayed in place while keeping watch on Verinas and the three brothers. Wolfram urged his horse after the duke, his interpreter and bodyguards moving together with him. There had been no invitation for Wolfram but the blond figured that the duke's earlier agreement granted him all permission he needed.

In fact, Wolfram didn't feel so much of interest in the incident itself. He was more curious about how the duke was going to resolve it. As Wolfram had to rely on his interpreter, he didn't dare to venture any presumptions about the situation.

Fifteen minutes later, one of the soldiers was knocking on the door of a shabby looking cottage. An elderly woman appeared in the doorway, and Wolfram listened to them exchange words. She glanced at the duke and bowed, moving out of the doorway. Nonetheless, Wolfram could tell that she didn't want them entering. She didn't have any choice, though.

Eldara climbed off his horse, motioned for Wolfram and the interpreter to follow him, then went after the woman and his soldier inside. When all four of them filed into a small kitchen, the woman looked aghast. She asked them to wait until she warned her daughter about visitors. She disappeared behind a large wardrobe which separated the kitchen and the bedroom.

Wolfram could hear the women whispering behind the wardrobe. His exceptional hearing allowed him to catch every word but he couldn't understand them. Wondering if the duke's hearing was as good as his, Wolfram moved closer to the tiled furnace to warm up. The air smelled of herbs. He found the smell unpleasant. Wolfram looked around the modest kitchen. Despite the fact that it was a bright day outside, it was only half-light inside, the smoky glass windows letting in only vague light. However, there was nothing much to see: it was poor but clean. Everything seemed to be old and worn: the table, chairs, cupboards, and even the furnace itself. Things had been fixed over time: two chairs had new legs, the furnace had a few slabs of stone tiles, a new mug stood next to one with chipped brim. The brothers probably didn't even live here anymore; all three of them looked strong and old enough to build a house and have their own families.

The woman reappeared only five minutes later. Reluctantly, she took them behind the wardrobe. The smell of herbs was much stronger now. A young woman bowed lightly as soon as she saw them. Wolfram had the impression that she was a little unsteady on her feet. The duke motioned for her to sit down on the bed. Her face looked as if she had been crying a lot.

The duke looked around, taking in the room but there was nowhere to sit down except three worn beds. The elderly woman was about to rush out to bring a chair from the kitchen but Eldara stopped her. As soon as he sat down on the adjacent bed, something whooshed off it and hid under the bed, making the duke and the soldiers start.

"A cat," Wolfram, whose eyes were better at discerning moving things, said.

The daughter was apprehensive, nervously staring at them. Wolfram was certain that if what the brothers had said was true, it hadn't been a good idea for all of them to be here; three armed men and a Demon could make anyone wary.

Wolfram listened to the duke and the woman converse silently. At first, the interpreter had started whispering into Wolfram's ear, but then the blond stopped him as it was distracting both the woman and the duke. Only when they had stopped talking did Wolfram ask for the interpreter to sum up their conversation.

They left the cottage in silence. Climbing onto his horse, Wolfram glimpsed a sight of faces behind the windows in the surrounding houses. The town's people would have plenty of material for conversations for years to come. The duke had a thoughtful look on his face and Wolfram would have given a lot to know what he was thinking. The way Eldara had been talking to the woman had left a big impact on Wolfram. He hadn't thought that the man was capable of such consideration and thoughtfulness.

"Should I get raped for you to start taking me seriously as well?"

The duke gave Wolfram a disturbed look and then shook his head. The ungodly joke and the moment in which the blond had chosen to tell it disgusted him. "You lack proper manners."

"Yes, I do."

Eldara rolled his eyes. "I'm taking you seriously. More than some people, actually." For a few moments he was silent then spoke again. "You aren't a very sympathetic person, are you?"

"Probably not," Wolfram admitted. "Well, it's not that I can change anything. I'm more interested in what you're going to do about the baron's son. You would not want to incur his father's displeasure, would you? He seems to be an influential man."

Eldara gave a look to the interpreter, who squirmed uncomfortably. "He is," the duke agreed.

"So it's better to stay friends with him."

The duke rolled his eyes again. Of course it was better to get along with him. Lennon Barista of Elkia ruled over a rich land in the neighboring Arklend dukedom and was the subject of Neryan von Sedera. The duke and Baristas maintained a good relationship, which meant that the baron would complain to the duke.

The baron's son kept his smile on when Eldara and Wolfram returned. If he was worried, he was good at hiding it. The crowd had not dispersed, on the contrary – even more people had joined in. The soldiers had to push them back to make more space. It was obvious that before they arrived heated discussions had taken place. The guards must have been troubled.

"Throw those three into the dungeon," Eldara said, motioning with his head at the brothers. He slid off his horse, intending to have a word with the baron's son.

Wolfram expected the crowd to start protesting, but it was silent. There was a commotion, though, and one of the brothers broke free from the guard who had been trying to tie his hands. Swords jingled, but the duke raised his hand to stop his soldiers. He watched the brother run up to him and fall onto his knees. Eldara grabbed the man with one hand by the front of his shirt and yanked him onto his feet before he could open his mouth to start begging. The sight of the bulky man in the duke's grasp was somehow amusingly unsettling: the man was nearly twice as big as Eldara.

"I'm not interested in anything you want to say," the duke said to the man. He pulled him closer so that their faces nearly touched. Eldara smiled. There was nothing warm in that smile. Wolfram listened to him hissing something at the man. The words were barely audible even for his ears. He didn't know what Eldara was saying, but the man paled suddenly. He started saying something but Eldara punched him in the gut, and he fell over moaning. The duke prodded him with his foot, and the man let out a row of groans and howls as if his ribs were broken.

Appalled, Wolfram watched one of the guards drag the seemingly half-conscious man to his brothers.

"Sir Barista," the duke said, walking over to him. "It would be much safer to spend the night in the castle." He looked around meaningfully.

Barista took in the people surrounding them. The faces weren't friendly. Nobody knew if he would reach the inn he was staying at safely. "Yes, Your Grace. It's a good idea. Thank you very much for the invitation."

"It's the least I can do," Eldara said. He nodded lightly and returned to his horse.

Wolfram was still waiting for the crowd to demand justice. Nothing happened. There were a few discontent murmurs and glares directed at both the duke and Barista but then the crowd simply started dispersing.

"I'm very disappointed in you," Wolfram said when all of them had finally started moving towards the castle.

The duke's eyebrows rose. "Are you? You break my heart, Wolfram. But I do have to maintain a decent level of order so that all of us wouldn't suddenly find ourselves on burning sticks."

"Well, we do have to stick together," Wolfram agreed somberly, but with a little sarcasm seeping through. "But, really…this kind of thing…" He looked at the duke, but the man wasn't even listening to him. Now, he was motioning for the captain of the guards. The man quickly rode up to the duke. The interpreter stayed silent, and, frowning, all Wolfram could do was listen to them exchange meaningless words.

Tbc


	13. Part 13

**ZAFIRA**: thanks :)

**shie0917**: I find _Working the Paradox_ a bit childish now, especially its beginning. But that's bound to happen when the writing progresses.

Oh, Eldara is full of master plans. He's got at least five for Barista and at least ten for Wolfram, haha Always full of plans and most of them do work in the end.

Eldara's brother has got not a very laudable habit but it will be shown a few chapters later.

**Krapo**: thank you :)

**Guest**: oh yes, the duke is really engineering some secret retaliation plan. Killing Barista is out of the question, though, since Eldara would not want to start an open conflict with the other duke. Normally, he is unscrupulous and would find a way, but, this time, he can't overstep the line. The reason will come a little later.

**sarsa13**: No one is going to die at the end of this fanfic and neither do I plan to end it on a low note. For now, the plan is for Wolfram to end up with Yuuri. How or why that will happen are things I won't say. Plans can always change, though.

**gleish26**: Thanks for the compliments – I always try to give something unique to the readers. Whether they like it or not XD

xxxxxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20. Eldara – 31. Halea – 20. Athara – 18.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by HARPG0

Part 13

Wolfram sipped his tea silently while watching Barista over the edge of his cup. He found it unpleasant to sit with the man at the same table. Out of sheer annoyance, he wasn't interested in what he and the duke were conversing about. Thus, the interpreter at his side had been enjoying a peaceful meal from the very beginning of the dinner. Of course, Wolfram knew he was being rude to the duke's guest, but Barista Verinas was of no importance to Wolfram, and he couldn't force himself to care. And if ever, by some miracle, Wolfram needed to deal with his father, he intended to give him a piece of his mind about his rapist son.

Analyzing his thoughts, Wolfram emptied his cup. Humming, he lowered it onto the table. He really was practically apolitical, just as the duke had said. Fine with him. He could afford being apolitical having Gwendal behind his back, after all. Besides, it was better to be apolitical instead of being forced to entertain scum.

As Wolfram and Eldara returned late, now only the four of them were sitting at the dining table. Athara and Halea had already had their dinner two hours ago. Wolfram was certain that if Eldara had invited, the two would have joined them, but it was apparent that the duke hadn't even planned to. Obviously, Verinas wasn't someone Eldara was eager to seat at one table with his siblings.

"Let's have some wine," Eldara suggested when it was clear that Wolfram was about to leave the table. The duke was not surprised to see the blond give him a rather irritated look.

"It seems your bodyguard suffered no serious injuries, except that bang on his head," Eldara said while a servant was pouring their glasses. "He'll be fit enough to be up and around tomorrow."

"Oh, that's good," Verinas said. "I'm so relieved."

Wolfram rolled his eyes at the white wine filling his glass. If Barista had been so interested in the well-being of his bodyguard, he would have inquired Eldara about his health beforehand. The duke intentionally hadn't mentioned anything, wondering when Barista would remember his injured man.

"To justice." Wolfram saluted the other two men with his glass. Not waiting for an answer, he sipped his wine. He could see how unsettled Barista became when the interpreter translated his salutation, and a part of Wolfram, which was purely sadistic, was reveling in his discomfort. He also allowed himself to ignore the warning look the duke gave him, telling him to behave.

Eldara watched the blond from across the table. He had regretted stopping Wolfram from leaving. He had intended to humor himself by aggravating the blond but it had backfired. He had forgotten to take a lot of factors into the account. First, the blond was spoiled and arrogant and didn't bother talking to people he despised. And, when he did speak to them, he didn't hide what he thought of them. Second, Wolfram was nearly always aggressive in his defense. And, finally, the blond was unbelievably stubborn. You couldn't just seat him down and expect him to obey.

The duke decided he couldn't be bothered to breach the silence, which had suddenly settled at the table. Barista seemed to be just as lively but his smile had vanished. What Barista didn't know was that Wolfram's salute had mostly been intended for Eldara as a means of getting back at the duke for forcing him to stay at the table.

Wolfram was sipping his wine with malicious intensity. He wasn't looking at Verinas, but Eldara could tell that the blond was immensely enjoying his ability to make the other man uncomfortable and intended to use it to the fullest. It was clear that Wolfram already felt at home in the castle. He felt comfortable and daring enough to ignore the master's warnings and challenge his guest. Eldara couldn't decide if he was glad or angry about the fact. Probably, he felt a bit of both.

* * *

><p>Wolfram was jolted out of his sleep by a loud pounding on his door. Disoriented, he kept blinking at the darkness while the hammering continued to echo through the room. Someone was shouting behind the door but he couldn't understand what they were saying.<p>

"What happened?" Wolfram croaked, sitting up and summoning his fire element.

There were more shouts and even more insistent pounding but the sturdy door was locked from the inside and to open it one would need a siege weapon. Wolfram, surrounded by a halo of flames, walked over to the chair where his bathrobe hung and dressed while watching the door apprehensively. He wasn't going to open it before he knew what was going on. He looked over at a clock on the table. It was five o'clock in the morning. It was completely dark behind the curtains.

The pounding went on for about a minute. Wolfram could hear feet shuffling behind the door and someone saying something then it became quiet all of a sudden. In the silence that followed, the blond could hear the distant shouts and the jingle of metal.

"Your Highness?"

Wolfram startled in surprise at the loud voice of his interpreter. "Yes? What is happening?"

"Are you alright, Sir?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. What's with all the noise?"

"The prisoners escaped from the dungeon, Sir. The guards are checking the rooms in order to find them."

Wolfram stared at the door suspiciously. "You mean that they want to search my room as well, don't they?"

"Yes, Sir. If you please."

It didn't matter whether he pleased or not – the room would still be searched just to make certain that he hadn't been taken hostage or wasn't hiding the prisoners under his bed. The blond didn't feel like opening the door, but his oral guarantee was worthless in this case.

"Wolfram, open the door, please."

This was the duke's voice and, reassured, Wolfram moved forward. He turned the key and pushed the heavy door open. For a moment, the men outside the door turned motionless and stared at the blond wide-eyed. Confused, Wolfram turned to look behind him but there was no one there.

"Your fire element," the duke explained after meeting the blond's questioning gaze.

"Oh. Should I extinguish it?"

"No, you can keep it," Eldara said. Again, he looked at the fire floating around Wolfram. "It's just that we aren't used to sights like this."

"I see," Wolfram said, backing out of the doorway, allowing the duke and the soldiers to pass. The interpreter was already absent, and Wolfram decided that Eldara had dismissed him. The blond moved to stand next to the door and watched the four soldiers looking around his room. One went straight for the wardrobe and another checked under the bed. The curtains were opened and then drawn again.

"I believe the doctor advised against summoning your fire element?" the duke asked.

Wolfram's eyes left the guards. "Um… What?" he asked absentmindedly. "Ah, yes. I somehow did that unconsciously."

"Did you?" Seeing the unusual expression on Wolfram's face, Eldara moved forward. "Hey, are you…?"

"Wh-?" Wolfram stuttered when his legs suddenly started to fold under him. He tried to grasp at the door handle to keep himself upright but his fingers slid through the empty air.

"Got you," the duke huffed out, grabbing Wolfram before he could slide to the floor. He shifted his hold on the blond then hefted him up into his arms and headed toward the bed. The funny thing was, he thought while carrying Wolfram, that the blond would have probably been alright if he hadn't been made aware of his fire element.

"Do you feel sick?" Eldara asked, lowering Wolfram into his bed. He brushed the bathrobe farther away from the blond's neck and towards his shoulders, so that his throat wouldn't be constrained. Even while doing that he realized that it was mostly a habit – there was no way the fluffy material constrained something.

In attempt to clear his vision, Wolfram blinked rapidly. "No. Just…the room's spinning. I'm a little bit…dizzy."

Eldara beckoned one of the soldiers closer and sent him to get the nurse. Then his attention returned to Wolfram. The blond didn't look bad, nor did he look upset. The duke touched the blond's forehead and then his right temple but there was no fever. He sat down on the bed next to Wolfram, who gave him a sheepish smile.

"It will probably take some time for you to be able to use your element without being penalized."

Wolfram nodded silently. He noticed that the duke was looking at his right hand. The half-healed scratches were hardly visible due to the feeble light the oil lamp offered. Yet, it was very noticeable that his hand needed no bandages. Wolfram felt the bed shift, and Eldara stood up. Detached, the blond watched the man's back while he was walking over to the table.

The duke took the oil lamp off the table and brought it over to the nightstand at the blond's bed. Now he was able to take a more careful look at his hand. It seemed that, just as the doctor had said, it was healing properly.

"Your Grace?"

The duke turned to face the soldier who had called him. "Ah, yes. You can leave if you're done here."

The three soldiers saluted and hurried off to continue searching the castle.

"It seems I have underestimated you," Wolfram said when the door closed and they were left alone.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about, Wolfram."

The blond chuckled lightly. "The prisoners, Your Grace. The prisoners, who have miraculously escaped from your dungeon."

"I believe I did tell you to call me by my name."

"Hmm… No, instead of 'underestimated'," Wolfram continued, ignoring him, "I should probably say 'misjudged'."

"Don't worry; people do that all the time."

Wolfram chuckled again. He still felt faint but his head was becoming clearer. "What will happen when Verinas' father comes?"

Eldara leaned down closer to Wolfram in order to look at his face. He watched Wolfram carefully, wondering whether the blond was deliberately using his brother's shampoo.

During Wolfram's stay in the castle, he had regained the weight he had lost. The several months the blond had spent in the army had made him look tougher, more muscular, and the blond was also taller than when Eldara had last seen him in Shin Makoku. However, he still smelled of Athara's shampoo, which was the same as smelling like a toddler. Really, Wolfram must be doing that on purpose.

"And why are you so interested? One may think that you're concerned about my well-being," the duke drawled slowly.

There was a certain low intonation in Eldara's voice, and Wolfram felt a shiver go down his spine. It was a strange sensation. Not one he disliked, though.

"It's just curiosity," Wolfram answered lightheartedly, deciding to play it safe.

The duke gave him a sharp unconvinced smile. Wolfram wasn't certain how to react to the long and intent look the duke was giving him. He felt his cheeks turn pink and hoped that this wasn't visible in the half-light. He stiffened when Eldara's fingers pulled on his bathrobe's collar, closing it tighter around his neck. Wolfram nearly jolted out of his skin when there was a loud knock on the door. He was glad that it was the duke who had answered and let the nurse in. Wolfram didn't trust his throat to make more than a squeak.

"Don't worry. I will deal with him when the time comes," the duke said, standing up. "Your assistance, though, would be very welcome."

Wolfram watched Eldara leave. He nodded faintly when the duke said he would send for the interpreter.

Once the other man had left, Wolfram thought that maybe he had misunderstood something. Did Eldara really flirt with him? It had been a strange sensation. Most Human cultures had certain rules and regulations concerning same sex relationships. He wasn't certain how it was in Kardera. Was it allowed or was it frowned upon? During his stay he hadn't noticed any displays he could draw conclusions from. Maybe there had been some, but he hadn't noticed because he had been preoccupied with… Wolfram suddenly wondered what he had been preoccupied with. Actually, he had been preoccupied with absolutely nothing. All he had done was let the current of surrounding events carry him with it.

And…when it came to that, nobody would ever flirt with a royal emissary out of fear that it was politically incorrect and he or she would demand have their head chopped off. They would only flirt back. And Wolfram hadn't ever thought of flirting with anyone because…well, because he just didn't flirt. He simply didn't. Unless it was with Yuuri but it had never worked anyway. A complete waste of time.

As if daring her to come closer, Wolfram stared at the nurse, who stared right back at him. It didn't seem that she had a faintest idea what was wrong with him. Wolfram didn't have one, either. He was lightly aroused, but, unless she was a Demon, she couldn't have known that. It was too dark in the room, and she couldn't smell him, either.

The look on the blond's face told the nurse that it was best to stay back, so she did. She, however, seemed to be worried about Wolfram's sudden hostility. In fact, it was more embarrassment that Wolfram felt, but, out of habit, he covered it with, in his opinion, more appropriate emotions.

Wolfram's head turned towards the door, where, after a knock, the interpreter appeared.

"I'm glad His Highness is safe," he said bowing.

"Yes, thank you for your worry," Wolfram muttered. "Tell her she can go. I feel fine, just tired. I'll just go back to sleep." Absentminded, he listened to the nurse and the interpreter exchange words.

"Oh, Your Highness," the interpreter said when they finished talking, "Mela extends her utmost apologies to Sir for being late. But she had to tend to Lord Barista's wounds first."

Wolfram perked up. "You don't say!" He grinned widely when his interpreter confirmed his words with a nod.

"Yes, Sir," the interpreter said, obviously thinking that the expression on Wolfram's face was very inappropriate. "The prisoners got into his room and nearly killed him!" he said, clasping his hands in horror.

"Poor bugger," Wolfram said, continuing to grin, wondering who of the two was worth of his sympathy: the duke or Verinas. For some reason, he couldn't muster any for Barista. However, Eldara had dug himself a very deep hole; only naïve idiots like his interpreter thought that it had been an accidental escape and attack.

Wolfram suddenly felt giddy with the excitement. So, this was what Eldara had meant when he said that his assistance was very welcome. Oh, without doubt, he was going to support anything the duke maintained.

* * *

><p>Wolfram joined the von Ashira family at lunch. It was unusually quiet at the dinner table. The duke, though, didn't seem any different from usual. It was the other two siblings who appeared to have an apprehensive air about them.<p>

"Do you feel well, Wolfram?" Eldara asked, watching the blond quickly shoveling half of the table into his plate. Fried potatoes, chicken, salad, sauce, pork, some more potatoes, everything went until the large plate was so full, that one less careful move would have made the potatoes spill and roll all over the table. The answer was obvious.

"Oh, yes, extremely well. Thank you for asking," Wolfram said, digging into fried chicken. "Any news about Barista's health?"

"I'm afraid he's feeling much worse than you," Athara answered, racking through his salad in his plate. He gave Wolfram's plate a morose look. Why was the blond in such a good mood?

"What a pity," Wolfram said, munching on his chicken with increased appetite.

"You don't seem… All that upset," Athara noted.

"Oh, I am! I really am!" Wolfram said enthusiastically, fishing for more potatoes. "I've never been so upset in my entire life!"

"You certainly…"

"Athara, he hates the man," Eldara said, cutting his brother off as it seemed the pointless conversation was going to drag on and on.

For a few minutes, it was silent at the table with the only sounds being the duke's and Wolfram's forks scraping the plates.

"Why? What has he ever done to you?" Athara asked.

Now, Wolfram became conscious that neither Athara nor Halea were aware of real circumstances. Suddenly, he had no idea what to say.

"Fredrick von Sarda is arriving this evening," Eldara said, giving Wolfram a glance.

"Fredrick who?" Halea wondered.

The duke looked like he was about to say something but he never voiced it out. Instead, he smiled. "The same Fredrick who was so passionate about you in Shin Makoku during His Majesty Yuuri Shibuya's birthday."

Understanding dawned on Halea's face. "Oh, him!"

Wolfram could guess that if he hadn't been present at the table, the duke would have said something to his sister like "No wonder you're still single; you have a memory like a goldfish". But then, Eldara probably never said anything like that to his sister. He was much stricter with Athara.

"What is the reason for such a sudden visit?" Halea asked in a hopeful voice.

The duke nodded to confirm her suspicions. "Well, it seems the attempt on you has shaken him up quite a bit. He… I think he wants to make certain you're sound and well."

Athara rolled his eyes. "And he won't rest until he has had visual proof of that, right?" he said. "How romantic!"

Wolfram thought that he had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the dining room. He realized that everyone was looking at him as if waiting what he had to say to that. He smiled brightly.

"Sounds like a very caring young man," he said. If the duke or his siblings believed he would object to von Sarda seeing Halea, they were deluding themselves. He couldn't care less about who Halea was seeing or marrying, for that matter. "I can't wait to meet him."

* * *

><p>"Would you care to join me for a glass of wine?" the duke suggested to Wolfram when they were leaving the dining room.<p>

"Certainly, I would."

Wolfram followed Eldara to his chambers. Comfortably seating himself on a couch, he couldn't help noticing how different it was this time – he didn't feel so out of place as he had felt the last time he had been there. He watched the duke opening the cupboard next to the window.

"You prefer white wine, don't you?" Eldara asked Wolfram, already retrieving the drinks.

Wolfram nodded. "Yes."

When Eldara brought the glasses and drinks and lowered them onto the coffee table in front of him, Wolfram thought that maybe he should have chosen the large table in the middle of the room instead of the couch. Sitting side by side with the man was going to be a little awkward. Eldara started pouring the glasses, and Wolfram shifted along the small table so that, now, he was sitting nearly parallel with its left edge. He expected the duke to sit down near the right corner so that there would be enough space between them to make both of them feel comfortable.

"So, will you tell me how it really went?" Wolfram asked, twirling his glass between his fingers. He blushed when he nearly dropped it. He checked quickly to see if he had spilled anything on Athara's clothing.

"Are you certain you want to know?" the duke asked, sitting down, aware of the large gap Wolfram had left between them. He wondered what exactly the blond was afraid of.

Wolfram's eyebrows rose a little. The duke was giving him a way out. However, Wolfram had never been more eager in his life as he was now to become an accomplice.

"Oh yes, I'm pretty certain. Would it make it easier if I asked questions and you answered?"

Taking his glass, the duke shrugged. "Yes, why not? This way I'll also know of how much you're aware," he said, chuckling. He toasted Wolfram and took a sip. This was his favorite wine and, contently, he leaned back into the couch to enjoy it.

"Ah," Wolfram said, already regretting his suggestion. He laughed. "Well, long ago, we established the fact that I was not worth being complimented. So, I don't think I should worry about ruining my image."

The duke took another sip. "No, you shouldn't," he said. "There's not so much to ruin after all."

Wolfram rolled his eyes. "And why did I know you would say that?"

Eldara toasted him with his glass again. "It seems you know me pretty well."

"Yes, I also know that you don't mean half of what you say," Wolfram said, sniffing at his wine tentatively then taking a careful sip. He frowned at the taste: dry and sour. He lowered it back to the table. The taste was nearly the same as…

Eldara chuckled. "Would you prefer something different?"

"Yes, please. This one… The taste is awfully similar to the one I…" Wolfram trailed off.

"Ah, yes… to the one you had overdosed on during your ex-fiancé's birthday," Eldara finished for him, getting up and walking over back to the cupboard, missing the redness spreading over Wolfram's face. "I suppose you still have bad memories of it."

"Yes," Wolfram agreed, "precisely. So, as I was saying, you don't mean half of what you say," he continued, "but the other half is rather important. So, keeping that in mind, I would like to know what you said to the man before you punched him in the stomach."

"You mean one of the brothers?" the duke asked, carrying a different bottle and an empty glass to the coffee table.

Wolfram nodded. "That's what I said."

"I gave him two options to choose from," Eldara said, sitting down. "The first choice entailed a fair trial arranged by the baron of Elkia. In the second option, they were allowed to do anything except for killing or maiming his son for life. This option also included their families leaving the town and never coming back," he finished, filling the blond's glass.

"And then you hit him to make him look more harassed and afraid."

Eldara passed the glass to Wolfram, who took it. "Well, I certainly couldn't allow him to go around with a grin on his face."

"I don't think he is grinning much now," Wolfram drawled thoughtfully. "Without a place to go and with a hungry family to boot…"

"Do you think their sister had a life here? Nobody would ever take her for a wife now; her life was as good as ruined."

Wolfram nodded slowly then frowned. "A jingle. I thought I heard a faint jingle of coins when you hit him." He suddenly laughed. "You gave him the money, didn't you? About the same amount they would get for selling their houses, right?"

"No, much more, in fact. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to count."

Wolfram stared at the duke for a few second. "Oh gods," he said suddenly. "That's why nobody protested – they knew you won't let him off so easily."

"That might be so, but, Wolfram, you forget one tiny aspect of this case – I also have a sister. If anyone did or at least tried to do to her the same what has been done to that woman, I would rip them apart. With my bare hands if needed."

Indeed, he had forgotten that. However, the men in the mob hadn't. The entire town must be cheering now, knowing the perpetrator had been punished.

"But what is going to happen when the baron and the duke arrive?" Wolfram asked.

"And that, Wolfram, only depends on us," Eldara said, pouring himself more wine.

* * *

><p>The doctor knocked on the door softly, and a faint voice told him to enter. Wolfram followed him into Barista's room. Wolfram had come to gloat and he was perfectly aware of that. However, when he started moving towards Verinas's bed, he didn't feel the anticipated glee he had hoped to experience.<p>

Silently, without announcing his appearance, Wolfram stood at the bed while the doctor pushed the cover aside then started unwrapping the bandage off Verinas's broken leg to see how the nurse set it and how it was healing. It wasn't healing that well, and Wolfram felt the urge to cover his ears to protect them from Barista's shrill pain-filled howls that echoed in the room while the doctor was setting the bones anew. Even the medicine he had been having for pain hardly helped. The sounds of grinding bones made Wolfram grit his teeth unconsciously. Then it was finally over, Barista fell back into his bedding and panted heavily.

The blond watched Verinas's wet with sweat face. It was black and blue; the eyes were so swollen that he couldn't see anything. Try as he might, Wolfram could not summon those feelings of malevolence back. Disturbed, he averted his eyes. He stared through the window thoughtfully.

More agonized howls from Barista's mouth made Wolfram want to leave immediately. Despite this, the blond forced himself to stand at his bed firmly. He stared at the darkening window while, in the background, the doctor was checking on Verina's ribs then prodded his right arm, and his broken wrist.

This was the price of justice. While Wolfram was convinced that the duke had done the right thing, there was something deep inside which, while listening to the tormented sounds, made him want to hit Eldara again and again.

Tbc


	14. Part 14

**Tealonyx**: Well, there has been a lot of development between Wolfram and Eldara to get them where they are now and the tension between them is most rewarding. I know what you mean exactly when you say it would be difficult to get Yuuri into the picture now. It will really be difficult and Yuuri may only seem like a nuisance at first. He will probably seem ooc too as you say. But being ooc is not such a big deal – Yuuri has always been ooc in my fanfiction. I like him much smarter and collected than he is in the anime.

**Krapo**: thank you and happy New Year :)

**bishie82**: Thank you for your wishes, and a happy New Year to you :) It's very rewarding to see you follow this fourth fanfiction :) I hope you'll like it no less than the others.

Oh yes, the unresolved sexual tension between Eldara and Wolfram is sweet :P I loved creating it.

Eldara and Kyota can hardly be compared. In comparison to Eldara, Kyota seems like a rowdy kid that is all over the place. But Kyota has always been kindhearted and easily moved while Eldara is much more calculating and colder and you can't really know where you stand with him.

**Guest**: Yep, the plan is for Wolfram to end up with Yuuri but no one said he can't have fun with the duke first :P

**gleish26**: Yes, while Yuuri stayed somewhere in the background, Wolfram has come a long way. Eldara is a complex character and he is someone Wolfram looks up to. This, in turn, makes Wolfram square his shoulders as well and try to behave accordingly. Wolfram isn't very mature, and he will probably never be, yet he is mature enough to know his own weaknesses and deal with them if needed.

Wolfram getting uncomfortable about Verinas's pain… Well, most situations can be interpreted in various ways and "good" and "bad" sometimes is just an opinion. And, as a smart person said once, an opinion is like an asshole, everyone has got one, haha

I hope you'll find this chapter fun as well :)

**shy-quiet-unique22**: I must warn you that Yuuri x Wolfram won't come fast. The next 20 chapters won't include Yuuri either. Eldara x Gwendal appeals to me as well XD

**alguien22792**: Eldara is a complex character. He isn't sunshine and flowers. His sense of justice is quite high but his "justice" usually comes in when it's most convenient for him.

**Zafira**: thanks. I hope you used your vacation to the fullest.

xxxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! – It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: yaoi (male x male), violence, swearing, angst, drama. Wolfram-centric, out of character, original character.

Summary: With Yuuri's upcoming birthday, Wolfram makes his decision. Where will it lead him and what is to become of them? Should eventually be Yuuri x Wolfram.

A/N 1: Yuuri – 18 years old. Wolfram – 20. Eldara – 31. Halea – 20. Athara – 18.

A/N 2: Greta doesn't exist.

A/N 3: European/American/Japanese standards all at once depending on the plot requirements.

A/N 4: A tendency to ignore the anime/manga and supplement the story with my own imagined facts.

A/N 5: Season III is not taken into consideration, except for the fact that Wolfram's uncle exists.

A/N 6: The umlaut in Gunter's name is a bother.

A/N 7: **Happy New Year!**

**Bloom**

by chayron (lttomb yahoo com), beta-read by Tia Integra

Part 14

Wolfram was sitting on the couch when the duke entered the music room. This was the last place he thought he would find Wolfram as musicians were supposed to come only tomorrow, and, as far as he knew, Wolfram wasn't even able to whistle a tune to entertain himself. It seemed that the blond had picked the music room because he wanted an opportunity to be alone. He had pushed one of the chairs to the window, and sat there with his elbows leaning on the sill, simply staring at the dark window. The feeble candle-light coming from the top of a nearby piano was illuminating Wolfram's face on the glass.

Eldara cleared his throat to get the blond's attention. "Admiring your reflection?"

Wolfram's head spun round so fast that there was even a little crack heard. "Gh!" he gasped, grabbing at the back of his neck. "Oh gods, it hurts! Hurts so bad!" He removed his hand off his nape when he saw Eldara's worried face. "Kidding," he said. "A little payback."

The duke's eyebrows rose; the blond was in a strange mood. To any other bystander it would have looked as if Wolfram had been admiring his reflection on the window. However, Eldara knew that Wolfram's eyes could see more than those of an average Human. But then, the duke doubted that Wolfram had been looking at anything at all.

"Is something troubling you?" Eldara asked.

Wolfram stood up. "No, nothing in particular," he said, turning his chair around.

"You are a terrible liar, Wolfram."

"Am I?" Wolfram said, with a sigh. He sat down on the chair so that now he was facing the duke. "I suppose it_ is_ a serious drawback for politics, isn't it?"

Expecting the conversation to last for a while, Eldara leaned on the closed door and crossed his arms. "Yes, it is."

"What is it that you wanted?" Wolfram asked.

Yet, it didn't seem that the blond was very chatty this evening. "Fredrick von Sarda asks your permission to see Halea," the duke said.

"Why the hell does he need my permission to see her?" Wolfram asked, his irritation rising.

"Well, I just thought I would ask you. Just in case."

Wolfram rolled his eyes. "You and your games. I suspect he didn't even know I'm here before you told him?" He sighed. "Well, they do say that a woman who belongs to someone else looks prettier than one who doesn't belong to anyone. But why, in the world, drag _me_ into this?"

"Oh, can't you just humor me?"

"For gods' sakes… Oh, alright," Wolfram said, shaking his head in defeat. "I suppose it won't do any harm. Tell him that this time I will allow him to see her. You can add that I was very reluctant about it."

Eldara laughed. Pushing himself off the door, he uncrossed his arms. "Thanks. I highly appreciate this."

"Yes, make sure you remember you words."

"Oh, I always do."

"And you're such a liar, too."

"I'm afraid you're starting to see right through me."

* * *

><p>Wolfram was moodily munching on his bread spread with delicious goose liver pate. It was nearly eleven o'clock in the evening – the time he usually was already in bed – but von Sarda had just arrived, and it was only good manners to keep him company at the dinner table. Chewing, Wolfram thought that von Sarda could have saved their time by dining first and <em>then<em> going to see Halea. But no, that was not what a gentleman did. Not if he wanted to win a lady's favor. Wolfram felt like rolling his eyes. Then he wondered when he had become such a cynic in the matters of love. He quickly came to the conclusion that it was Yuuri's fault.

All three siblings and von Sarda seemed to be immensely enjoying themselves. The conversation, though, didn't hold Wolfram's interest. It was only an exchange of stories about von Sarda's trip, the retelling of the attempt at kidnapping Halea, discussion about the weather, and other pleasantries. The expensive pate was good, though, and Wolfram didn't mind the late snack. It would have been even better if he couldn't feel von Sarda stealing glances at him. He guessed that the man was envious of his status as Halea's savior.

Fredrick von Sarda looked and acted young and probably was someone who thought that he could kill thousands of enemies with only a swipe of his sword. Despite his young and foolish ardor, Wolfram found him quite agreeable and had to consent that, just as the duke believed, he was a good candidate for Halea's hand. He was rich, a son of an influential man, and, in addition to all that, Eldara would easily keep him in his clutches.

Wolfram helped himself to another slice of bread with pate. He took a bite and closed his eyes in delight. He was going to get the recipe and make the cooks in Shin Makoku make it every day. Or, at least, on Sundays.

"…was fortunate, right, Wolfram?"

Wolfram opened his eyes. "Uh… Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I said it was really fortunate that you were there," the duke repeated.

"Yes, indeed, Eldara," Wolfram said without much enthusiasm but feeling obliged to show that he was on first name basis with the duke. So they were still going on about that attack. Oh, gods, so boring.

"Wolfram said he was going to invite you for a ride in the park," Eldara said to Halea. "Why don't all three of you go together? The weather should be perfect for a ride."

"Oh, yes, it would be amazing," Wolfram said. "Why don't you join us as well?" he asked Eldara, taking a bite. If he had to suffer this farce then why not drag the duke into this?

"I would be delighted to, but I'm afraid I'm extremely busy tomorrow."

"What a pity," Wolfram said, glaring at his pate.

"Yes, indeed."

Athara was first to rise from the table and wish everyone goodnight. Then Halea and von Sarda followed, leaving Wolfram and the duke alone at the table.

"You know," Wolfram said, "I wish you would warn me about these ideas of mine _beforehand_."

"It's just a ride in a park, Wolfram."

"You forget that my suite is arriving tomorrow."

"They will need some time to settle in, so you will be free."

Wolfram gave him a skeptical look but didn't protest. He nodded. "Maybe so, but your plan is still not foolproof, as you forgot the fact that currently I'm very sensitive to physical activities."

"Damn."

Surprised, Wolfram laughed out loud. It was probably the first time he had heard the duke curse. Wolfram shrugged. "Well, I don't really mind. It's all for the best: von Sarda will immediately want to show off how good he is and he'll start galloping around. He will be so good in comparison to me that his ego will inflate to infinity, and he will be euphoric. In turn, he will believe that it is Halea who makes him feel so and will fall for her even more."

The duke was gazing at him thoughtfully, and Wolfram suddenly knew what he wanted to ask: How come it hadn't worked out with your king if you're so clever? It was good that Eldara didn't open his mouth.

* * *

><p>Fredrick von Sarda appeared to be a much more considerate man than what Wolfram had given him credit for. He didn't do any of the things Wolfram had imagined he would do. Wolfram, just as it had been expected, was riding at a turtle's pace, but von Sarda kept the same pace as him. Wolfram believed that he had had some time to think during the night and he had had some kind of revelation; he seemed to be much more coolheaded than yesterday. Or maybe he had simply been tired out by his journey from Small Cimaron; it was a long way and it was obvious that he had left as soon as he had heard what happened to Halea. If he really was that concerned (and it seemed that he was), Wolfram felt that his – mainly the duke's – interference was completely redundant and maybe even a hindrance, as it was obvious that Halea took a fancy to von Sarda.<p>

Halea rode between Wolfram and von Sarda. Von Sarda was painfully polite, asking Wolfram how he felt every few minutes. Every time he asked, the blond was compelled to nod gratefully and say that he indeed felt fine and thank him for asking. It seemed that von Sarda had wisely chosen to go for the image of a very caring person instead of promoting his physical advantages. It was a very sensible alternative, as, however you take it, Wolfram had already set the records in strength and bravery as Halea's savior – it was impossible to beat that. Von Sarda seemed to be a realist.

Fortunately, the weather, as the duke had promised the day before, was good. It was quite cold, but there was no wind and the sun offered its bleak autumn rays. They hardly brought warmth but at least they gave the illusion of warmth.

"How do you feel?" von Sarda asked for the fifth time, and Wolfram felt the urge to smack him. He felt like a third wheel. In fact, Von Sarda and Halea had much more in common than he and Halea. Their conversation just flowed naturally while he just uttered a comment here or there. At the same time, Wolfram was aware that it was probably because von Sarda's interest had an ulterior motive. All the times Wolfram had talked to Halea, it was just for the sake of talking and not for the sake of ending up in one bed with her. For that, though, von Sarda needed to get a ring on her finger.

Wolfram wondered if von Sarda's intentions were serious. He might just be testing waters. Nonetheless, testing was, most likely, out of the question: when it came to the Duke of Raizgad's sister, one had to be serious. Fredrick von Sarda didn't seem to be so foolish so as not to know that and risk incurring his wrath.

Wolfram also wondered if von Sarda knew that Halea had Demon's blood in her veins. He probably did – he must have checked her background thoroughly. Von Sarda probably wasn't worried about that – he was a Human coming from Small Cimaron where the population – due to Yuuri's influence – was already very tolerant of Demons.

"Do you feel alright?" von Sarda asked, turning his head to Wolfram.

Wolfram groaned mentally.

* * *

><p>When they returned from the park, Wolfram was informed that his suite had already arrived. Indeed, no sooner had he taken his gloves and coat off than he saw Yozak saluting him.<p>

"Your Highness, Yozak Gurrier, the captain of your bodyguard team, is at your service."

Wolfram nodded. "At ease. It's great to see you, Yozak. Where's the rest of the team?"

"They're having brunch, Sir."

"Ah, I see the captain has already found you," Eldara said, entering the corridor. His attention went to Yozak. "Is everything to your liking?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Everything's perfect. Thank you very much for your hospitality."

"You are very welcome." Eldara turned to Wolfram. "I hope you don't mind my being so forward and inviting them for a meal?"

Wolfram shrugged. "What's there to mind? Thank you. I'll make sure they pay for their meals."

"Oh, there's no need for that. They're guests."

"Don't talk nonsense," Wolfram said. "It's twelve people and only the gods know when they'll leave." He turned to Yozak. "Have you settled in?"

"Yes, Sir. We…"

"I'm asking about you, Yozak. Have _you _settled in? Of course you haven't," Wolfram said when Yozak shifted uneasily. He had been preoccupied ascertaining his men had everything they needed and also had used every free second to snoop around.

"Go and eat with everyone," Wolfram ordered, walking over to the duke. "I'll call for you later."

Yozak saluted. "Yes, Sir!"

"How was the ride in the park?" the duke asked.

"If you ask me how I feel, I will hit you!" Wolfram threatened.

"What? Why? Was it that bad?"

"No, it's just von Sarda. He annoyed the hell out of me."

"Why?"

Saluting, Yozak stared at Wolfram's and the duke's receding backs. He lowered his arm slowly. Only now did he allow the shock to appear on his face. Wolfram's short hair and his growth spur had caught him completely off guard. Another thing he had not predicted was that Wolfram would be on such friendly terms with the Duke of Raizgad. This didn't bode well.

* * *

><p>"His Majesty is very concerned about your wellbeing," Yozak said when Wolfram finished reading the letters he had brought with himself. He watched the blond fold Yuuri's letter and put it back into its envelope.<p>

"Oh? And it seems to me that he's jolly optimistic," Wolfram said, pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. He walked over to the luggage which had been brought to his room earlier. "Telling me I should go outdoors, into fresh air more often because he heard that autumns are beautiful in Kardera…"

"Well, they are, aren't they?" Yozak, who had been given permission to speak freely and was going to use it to the fullest, said. He grinned innocently when Wolfram turned around to give him a look.

"He also wrote that his horse is dead again but he's looking forward to getting a new one."

From where he was sitting at the table, Yozak regarded the blond's back with a wary expression on his face. Apart from his looks, there was something else that was different about the younger male. Yozak couldn't grasp or name it, but there was something unmistakably different about his behavior.

Wolfram opened the biggest trunk to find a stack of blue, neatly folded uniforms. Excited, he pulled out one set of the familiar clothes and couldn't help staring. It was as if he had met a long-lost friend. The uniform even smelled of home. Wolfram suddenly felt so moved that he started tearing up. He was more homesick than he had thought he was.

Wolfram straightened and took the uniform with him towards the bed where he dropped it. "Turn away," he ordered, before starting unbuttoning his jacket. At last, he had his own clothes to wear.

Yozak complied. He listened to the soft rustling of clothing then silence followed. It persisted for quite a while and Yozak took a risk of turning around. The blond had the uniform on, but there was a very puzzled expression on his face. He extended his arms, and Yozak could see how tight and constricted the jacket was around the blond's shoulders. Buttoning the jacket was out of question – the buttons would probably shoot off the jacket as soon as Wolfram tried to move around. The sleeves didn't cover his wrists either. Yozak dropped his eyes to Wolfram's trousers and was met by a very similar sight there – they were tight, the upper button was still undone and they were too short, above the blond's ankles.

"You brought wrong size," Wolfram said, his voice not angry yet, but there was a potential of slipping into anger. For now, he was just perplexed.

Yozak's eyes rose to the blond's face. It seemed that Wolfram was completely oblivious to how his body had changed. The difference that mere three months had brought was astounding. In fact, this should have happened long ago. When Wolfram had reached twenty, he had still looked boyish, even waif-like. Now, he finally looked like a grown man. It was only that the change had occurred unbelievably fast. However, even if startling, these kinds of growth spurts were not uncommon amongst full-blooded Demons.

"It's been taken from your wardrobe."

Wolfram gave him a confused look then Yozak could see horror starting to spread over the blond's face. Yozak became confused as well and then the understanding dawned on him. Shaking his head, Yozak waved his hands in front of him.

"Oh, no, it's n-"

"Fat?! Did I get fat?!" Wolfram gasped out in horror. Stumbling on his way, he rushed over to the wardrobe and tore the door open to look at the mirror on the other side of the door. His eyes flitted frantically over his reflection. He didn't look fat. There was hardly an ounce of fat on his body and he was in a pretty good shape, nothing flabby or lulling on him, the muscles toned and…

"Oh," Wolfram said, relief flooding his voice. "I have just grown a little bit, haven't I?"

Yozak gave him a skeptical look. "I think 'a little' is an understatement. There's a difference of two or three sizes. You seriously haven't noticed that?"

Wolfram stared at himself in the mirror. "Well…no. Honestly, it has never occurred to me."

Yozak followed the blond's gaze towards the clothes he had been wearing previously. He guessed that they belonged either to the duke or his brother. "But while in the service you must have noticed you were growing out of your uniform…"

"Mm… Yes, that might be it. When I came to the fort I was issued the same uniform as everyone else and it was bigger than I was used to. But then it got torn when I fell off the horse and into the bushes and then rolled down a slope. Then I was issued a new one. It might have been even bigger in size. Oh. So that's what happened," Wolfram said, taking a look at himself in the mirror. Now it occurred to him that when he and the duke had talked for the first time, Eldara had been serious about offering him his clothes. When he looked at himself more carefully, there probably wasn't that much difference between his and the duke's builds now.

"And to think that you used to be so obsessive about your looks…"

Wolfram shot him a glance, but it wasn't an angry one. "I still am," he said, returning to the trunk. "I just… I suppose everything will be too small now…" he drawled, looking at the clothes inside it. He lifted his arm to rub the back of his head, and he and Yozak started at the loud sound of his jacket tearing. Now there was a gaping hole in his armpit. Wolfram resigned and lowered his arm back to his side. "Oh, well. I guess I will have to go and ask Eldara for his tailor. And I hoped I would manage to avoid this…"

"You're on first name basis with the duke?"

"Turn away. He told me to call him by his name."

Wolfram peeled the uniform off himself and, only in a shirt, squatted down next to another trunk to search though it.

"He's much older than you…" Yozak said thoughtfully.

"Eleven years is nothing exceptional for a half-Demon. Besides, it seems they aren't conservative about the age difference so much in Raizgad."

Yozak was surprised. "So you know they are half-Demons?"

Wolfram nodded. He stopped sorting through his underwear then pulled one out and stretched it with both hands. Would have to do. Most of others would probably be too small. Just as he had thought, there was hardly anything he could wear now.

"Did you bring me a replacement for my sword?"

"Yes, we did," Yozak said. "It's in that chest." He turned around to point at it with his hand. Wolfram was holding black underwear in his hands, stretching, letting it go and then stretching it again absentmindedly. Yozak cocked his head to his shoulder at the sight. "You will tear it."

"What? Oh." Wolfram dropped the underwear back into the trunk.

"The sword is in there," Yozak repeated, trying not to stare at the half-naked blond. "I'm surprised we weren't ordered to disarm."

"Why would you be?" Wolfram said, walking over to the chest Yozak had pointed. "I represent the King of Shin Makoku and you are my suite. To disarm you by force would be a serious breach in protocol."

"He could have refused to accept us."

"Yes, he could have. But I can't imagine him doing that." After opening the chest, Wolfram pulled the sword out. "In that case, Eldara would have needed to send me to his king, who wouldn't have been very pleased about the hassle." Wolfram pulled the sword out of its sheath with a long-practiced ease. It felt good to feel the familiar weight in his hand, the sense of security making it self present at once. Yet, due to the scratches on his palm which still pained him, he couldn't grip the hilt firmly.

"Keep in mind that I am useless with a sword now," Wolfram warned Yozak. "I have problems with using my fire element as well." He raised his head to see the older man's eyes fixed on him. "Stop staring. I told you to turn away."

Yozak complied, turning his head away slowly. "Just dress," he muttered. The sight of the half-naked blond with a drawn sword was arousing as much as it was disturbing. "What's wrong with your fire element?"

"I can summon it but I get dizzy later. Obviously, this is the side-effect of the concussion," Wolfram explained. "Something doesn't work properly. Should pass in a while."

Yozak nodded. "I will keep that in mind." He heard a soft jingle of metal, which indicated that Wolfram had sheathed the sword. "Do you know what the duke promised Orinth the Fifth?" he asked.

"Why do you ask? Does it have anything to do with me?"

"Yeah, quite a lot, in fact. He said he was planning to get his sister married to you."

Wolfram found himself grinning widely, "Oh, did he? What else did he say?" he asked curiously while slipping Athara's trousers on.

Yozak turned his head to give the blond a searching look. "And this doesn't bother you at all because…?"

Wolfram laughed softly. "Because it's a good idea. It would finally create a bridge between Kardera and Shin Makoku. Besides, I don't think Eldara had many choices in the matter. It was either that or Orinth the Fifth would have started to interfere with my stay here. And Eldara doesn't like it when people interfere."

"Wolfram," Yozak drawled carefully. "Are you seriously thinking about marrying Halea von Ashira?"

"Oh, gods, no!" Wolfram laughed. "I only recently figured out that Eldara is indeed thinking something along those lines. Well, hopefully von Sarda will diffuse the situation."

Yozak watched the blond putting on the borrowed jacket he took off earlier. His gaze slid off Wolfram to take in the room. It was a splendid room, warm, comfortable, fully equipped with stylish furniture and a sturdy door. Gwendal had been worried about the duke mistreating Wolfram. In a way he was, but it seemed that Wolfram was amused by it instead of being worried or subdued.

"He has you wrapped around his little finger."

"Has he?" Wolfram said, walking over to another trunk to open it.

"You have no idea who you are dealing with," Yozak said seriously. "The man is one of Orinth the Fifth's favorites. Von Ashira is manipulative and ruthless. He's a notorious figure even behind Kardera's borders."

"Really?" Wolfram sounded unimpressed. He dug around in the trunk. He found his boots and pulled them out to try them on.

"Wolfram, do you hear what I'm saying?" Yozak said through gritted teeth. "In the Battle of Derington, Eldara von Ashira fought at his father's side. He watched his father die, took over the command and led his men into victory. This and other things… He became a duke at the age of fifteen, Wolfram. There was a lot of commotion about him taking over after his father at such a young age. No one could stand up to him, though. In addition, Orinth the Fifth was on his side. He's not someone you want to take lightly."

"I'm not taking him lightly, Yozak," Wolfram said, trying to pull his left boot off his foot. "Damn it!" he growled at the boot when it didn't even budge. "On the contrary, I am perfectly aware of how cunning he is." He huffed in relief when he finally managed to take the boot off. He chucked it back into the trunk. Too small. Then he turned around to look at Yozak. "But really? At the age of fifteen?"

"After von Ashira's remarkable performance in the battlefield," Yozak said, "Orinth the Fifth supported every von Ashira's move and didn't give Raizgad away to the intended regent, his aunt. The duke's father and Orinth the Fifth had been on very friendly terms, you see. I suspect Orinth the Fifth had interacted with his son quite frequently as well."

"I have never seen Orinth the Fifth," Wolfram said, opening another trunk, which was filled with cosmetics: shampoo, bars of varicolored soap, cologne, face powder, and other toiletries.

"He's an old man of eighty," Yozak said. "He inherited the throne after his father's death."

"Is he Human?"

Yozak gave Wolfram a surprised look. "Yes, of course, he is." He faltered. "I mean he should… Shit. You don't mean he's…?"

Wolfram shrugged. "I wonder..."

Tbc


End file.
